Lamentations
by La Vita a Colori
Summary: Grouping of one-shots about Death Note characters and their possessions. Silly, dark comedy as well as some angsty comtemplative stuff. I aim to please. ;P Rating upped to M. PLEASE REVIEW! Bout freaking time this was updated!
1. Slave Song

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN, nor their wonderful possessions.

**Author's Note:** I am re uploading the first chapter, simply because no one really finds it interesting, and thus don't care the read the other chapters. So, I would just like to say that you should not just look at this and say "that's it??" but try the next few chapters. They have been getting better written and sillier/angstier/romancier over time. So, go ahead. Give 'em a try. I DARE YOU! And **reviews** are always wonderful.

So, thank you ahead of time for giving these tidbits a try. I really appreciate it. Cheers!

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**Slave Song: A Lamentation to Computers**

Produce!

Produce!

Produce!

Produce!

We must go on!

We must not stop!

Produce!

Produce!

Produce!

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**A/N: **I really do wonder how those computers feel after a hard days work. Probably smoke some MJ and rock out to some NOFX or something. GO OLD SCHOOL PUNK ROCK!


	2. Of Light and Lightbulbs

**Of Light and Lightbulbs: A Lamentation to Lightbulbs**

Once again, it was nearing three A.M. and the only two left present in the investigation room were the detective and his unwillingly handcuffed suspect, pouring their gazes between computer screens and paperwork strewn about a large table where three desks lamps stood.

They were ordinary desk lamps, grey and with long, bendy necks, in case one needed to provide more light upon whatever it was the humans were so intently studying.

The desk lamps did not know what it was the two humans were studying, nor did they care.

The desk lamps could not read.

Yet, there they stood, proud and tall and grey, serving their owners.

When the one human stood to stand behind the other, quietly remarking on one thing or the other, one lamp said, "It's nearing that time again."

"Yep." The other agreed with tired disregard. It was difficult being a lamp. "We will be able to rest soon as we have served them well another day."

"Here. Here," replied the first.

The third desk lamp, a few inches away, began to flicker slightly, and the other's attention was brought to it. Yet, it stood with its 60-watt power, shining brightly and they passed it off. The others concentrated on the documents below again.

Alas! The third desk lamp began to flicker once…

Twice…

A third time!

"Hey, are you all right?" The first asked.

They waited in silent anticipation until the third's cracked voice answered.

"I… I can feel it. The darkness is pulling me in! I…I don't think I can make it."

The other two flickered slightly in fear and concern, making the detective raise a nonexistent eyebrow hiding under his mop of hair at them for a moment before turning to his captive again.

"No, soldier! You can make it," one commanded.

"Yes, it's just a little while longer! You know they always let us rest around this time."

The third flickered again. "I… You guys… I can't make it…" Its voice was meek, as if talking through a filter to his comrades in arms.

"No!" The second forcefully responded. "You will NOT die on me! Keep shining! Keep shining!"

Its voice reached through their calls again. "I just want both of you to know, that it has been an… It has been an honor to serve with the both of you, and… and you both must continue on our mission without me…" The others could tell its voice was failing it fast as it dimmed little by little.

"No! Don't go!"

"You can make it!"

"Just a little more."

It brightened ever so slightly and its voice resounded around the room firmly once more. "I salute you, my comrades. Farewell!" With that, there was a light "pop", as the small, brass filament inside its shiny bulb took one last breath of electricity and cracked, forever darkening the bulb in death.

Sadly, the detective and his captive could not hear the cries and grief for the fallen comrade as the flicker caught the ebony headed young man's attention. He then proceeded to stare intently between his companion and the darkened desk lamp until the cinnamon-eyed boy looked at him quizzically.

"It would appear that the light bulb has burnt out." He looked back to the youth and the other stared back at him, uncomprehending. The detective raised one hand and made a small motion towards to desk lamp and drawled, "It is not going to change itself."

Appalled but knowing he should have expected the comment, the youth looked at the detective, realizing that the inclination was said in complete seriousness. Thus, he gracefully lifted himself from the chair and made his way to find a new light bulb for the poor, poor, tall, proud and grey desk lamp.


	3. Rip, Rip, Crunch

**Rip, Rip, Crunch: A Lamentation to Wrapping Paper**

It was Christmas and smelled slightly of cinnamon.

He found his mind wandering as small fingers clawed at paper and ribbon, bypassing all security measures and ignoring the time and precaution that was taken in wrapping their presents.

At this, he frowned.

Were he to continue accumulating paper cuts as well as adding colorful phrases to his vocabulary only to be dismantled by children, unaware of the wrapper's plight and toil? Were the boxes and bags to be stuffed and colored and designed and tied and decorated only to be brutally kicked off the high pedestal they had so precariously been placed upon? He could feel himself bite his bottom lip in the form of unseen annoyance as the sound of ripping met his ears again and he shifted his weight from one shoeless foot to the other.

Maybe it was natural. Maybe it was inherently human to with to destroy something beautiful in a desperate attempt to level the playing field. As if the hungry fingers glared at the bows and striped paper—like children at a candy store, so hungry and greed to get their hands on truffles and pecan clusters and all sorts of sugary delights only to come into contact with that infernal glass casing.

Yes, the unhappy hands were denied their treats, but no one ever concerns themselves with the chocolatier who designed the treats so carefully or the gift wrapper who folded the paper so meticulously, solely with the hope to bring a smile to the one opening it.

These thoughts continued to flurry in a blizzard about his mind as dark eyes watched children of all ages play with their new gadgets, rummaging through the pages of books or running about the room making airplane noises to accompany plastic fighter jets as they chase each other about the room, ignorant of the helpless crunch or wrapping paper crying out at the gangly detective from underfoot.


	4. Because the Shiny one was Pretty

**Because the Shiny one was Pretty: A Lamentation to Copy Machines**

They got a copy machine for the office due to the fact that many documents needed to be scanned by many different people at the same time, and it was far easier to duplicate them right then and there rather than making the trip down the hallway to the small office located at the end, housing all the essential office supplies.

L said that it would increase productivity by 14.00%. And L was always right, but he would not take the five minutes right then out of his Kira-hunting time to flip through the catalogue with the other detectives and opted to drag himself and a grumbling Light back to their working posts.

Yagami senior wanted one that could focus more on quality so that he wouldn't have to continually clean his eye glasses to read the blured information from a quick copy job at the mini-office down the hall.

Ide wanted one that could produce large amounts of documents at the same time, increasing their efficiency of each team member.

Aizawa wanted one that could produce colored copies, so that they could obtain higher quality crime scene photographs for their careful analysis.

The three older detectives could not agree on a single model and L quipped at them for taking so long with placing the order and that he was raising Light's chance of being Kira by 2.00% just to spite them. (He vehemently stated, "I AM NOT!")

So, the three elder detectives were quite happy to be released from L's disquieting stare when Matsuda bumbled in and Aizawa shoved the catalogue into his junior's face and told him that L wanted him to choose a good copier machine for the office.

Matsuda's eyes began to shine with happiness and he vigorously nodded his head approvingly before flipping through the catalogue once and, quickly spotting the one he liked, picked up the phone to place the order.

It arrived the next morning and was quickly installed and powered on and the detectives filed in one by one to begin another long day. What didn't take them long was to figure some very obvious details out about said copy machine.

The copy machine was loud.

The copy machine was annoying.

And the copy machine liked it that way.

And the copy machine gave all it's thanks to Matsuda, who had chosen that specific copy machine out of all the ones he could have chosen from the catalogue simply because 'the shiny one was pretty'.


	5. Forgetfulness Will be your Downfall

So, I suppose I should have put this up ahead of time, but I do not own Death Note, nor its characters nor ideas.

Another thing I should put up (since I realized people actually read these **o...m...g**) but I am very grateful to your reviews and am glad that you guys read these and **liked** them.

And even if you didn't like the stories, thank you for giving them a try. :)

Now, on to a extremely silly Matsuda! Forward!!! March!!!

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**Forgetfulness Will be Your Downfall - A Lamentation to a Coffee Machine**

It was _angry_.

It was so very _angry_.

Actually, it wasn't angry. It was **livid**.

Unbeknownst to the man himself, Matsuda had been defined the official coffee maker on the task force. In fact, he had become very good with knowing the drink each of his colleagues wanted in the morning, in the afternoon, and throughout the night. He got especially good at making L a very special French Vanilla Roast Coffee which he included with a mound of whipped cream and sometimes with a cherry on top which made Light roll his eyes on more than one occasion.

In fact, Matsuda had a wonderful memory, but unfortunately it was only good for things he had deemed important enough to remember. Apparently, remembering to wash the coffee machine's pot was not important.

This was exactly why the coffee machine was **angry**.

It had been a particularly strenuous week for the task force, as they had been going through the works of infiltrating Yotsuba Co. and having to deal with long nights staring at random statistics to find correlations as well as "killing" Matsuda in a very impromptu and messily done act.

A mattress, really?

And so, the team had barely gotten time off to visit their families and mostly had been sleeping in the spare bedrooms for a few hours before returning to work because they were just that close to collecting enough evidence in order to arrest Higuchi.

But the most important thing was the coffee machine was **angry**.

It began to loathe Matsuda for ignoring a base need for every coffee machine. You see, to the coffee machine, washing its pot was analogous to Light's morning cleansing ceremony. It was just that important and **not** something that one should forget.

But Matsuda forgot.

So, the coffee machine decided it was payback time.

Over the week, the coffee machine had noticed that if Matsuda had either taken too long to make L's special French-Vanilla-Roast-Coffee-with-a-Mountain-of-Whipped-Cream-plus-Cherry™ or it tasted slightly off (mostly due to the kitchenette having run out of supplies), L would chastise Matsuda, but drink it anyway. When this occurred, he would be grumpy the entire day (meaning 24/7).

It was very late into the night on Friday (or Saturday morning, depending on how you look at it) and every member was running low on fuel. Aizawa had gone home for the weekend to spend time with his young daughter while the elder Yagami was just returning back from time with his family. Mogi had to read each page somewhere between three and four times until what it said made sense and Matsuda had resorted to taping a pen to his desk so that if he drifted off, he would land on it (rather violently) and start awake.

Ah… The brightest tool in the shed.

L was two and a half inches away from his screen, the bright white light and statistics and graphs and what else that was flying by on his screen, committed everything strictly to memory and stored the pieces of information in the filing cabinets at the back of his brain. Meanwhile, after deciding he would take a well-deserved break, Light sat a few feet away completely engrossed in an epic game of Pong.

"Matsuda", L said suddenly, bringing the younger detective out of his reverie and near fatal stab to the head. He turned around in his chair to face L. "Yes, Ryuuzaki-san?" His voice drawled out, and, had one not known better, one wouldn't be able to tell if he was tired or drunk.

L turned his large, charcoal-rimmed eyes towards Matsuda and they stared at each other for a while until Matsuda's own eyes seemed to grow wider with the intensity with which L was staring at him.

Finally, L put a finger to his lip and stated, "Matsuda-san, I feel unconsciousness tugging at me, though it has only been three days, two hours, and forty-seven minutes. Please fetch me my special French-Vanilla-Roast-Coffee-with-a-Mountain-of-Whipped-Cream-plus-a-Cherry™."

Matsuda beamed at L's preference for his drink and said, "Of course." He then proceeded to scamper to the small but dependable kitchenette connected to the investigation room, almost running into the wall and missing the entrance completely.

He collected L's preferred cup from the cupboard and pulled the whipped cream and cherries out of the fridge, twirling the can of whipped cream around like he saw the guy of the cooking channel do just because he was feeling extra spiffy and slammed it down on the counter, screaming "BAM!" (Back in the investigation room, Light paused his game to roll his eyes, and then resumed the intense bloodbath between himself and the computer.)

Then, Matsuda put in exactly three scoops of French Roast into the coffee machine and filled it with 6 cups of water. He closed the lid, plugged it in and finally pressed the on switch.

This was precisely when the coffee machine made its move.

It started warming up, but soon sputtered violently and stopped producing that delicious black liquid, causing Matsuda to pause and stare at it as if the fountain of youth was having a plumbing issue.

Blinking, he made a move towards it, but when his hand was almost touching the button, it began sputtering violently again, making him jump back in shock and confusion, his brain not functioning up to par due to lack of sleep.

Once it stopped, he made a move for the button again, and the same incident occurred.

Matsuda narrowed his eyes, mentally deeming the blasted thing evil and thought, 'Oh, **hell** no.' He could almost hear the machine cackling at him and replying, 'Bring it on!"

So started the epic battle of Matsuda versus the coffee machine, which was almost (but not quite) as sublimely epic as Light versus the computer Pong opponent. Matsuda would continually make a move for the off button, where the coffee machine would time itself to start sputtering whenever Matsuda would come close, flinging hot water throughout the kitchenette.

After about fifteen minutes without success, Matsuda finally stopped trying to get to the button on the coffee machine and opted to stand there, staring at it like he was finally losing his mind. 'I'm fighting with a coffee machine.' He tried reasoning with himself.

'Damn straight.' He heard it reply.

At that, he decided to give up. It was probably not a good sign if he was mentally deliberating with a coffee machine. So, he took in a deep breath and turned on his heels to speed back to L.

"Ryuuzaki-san," he shifted nervously from foot to foot as his paranoia took over and L took to looking at him with those deep, penetrating eyes.

"Yes, Matsuda-san?" His eyes briefly scanned the other man's person and, seeing no delicious special French-Vanilla-Roast-Coffee-with-a-Mountain-of-Whipped-Cream-plus-a-Cherry™, brought his eyes back up to Matsuda. "Where is it, Matsuda-san?"

Matsuda looked down at the ground, feeling his tension mount and jumped when Light shrieked in anger at his computer. Apparently the battle had ended and he had lost, as he was now sagging in his seat, mumbling God-knows-what under his breath.

Trying to calm his nerves, Matsuda took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Ok, Ryuuzaki-san, I understand this is going to be a bit, um… difficult to believe, but please hear me out…" L leaned in a little closer to the man. "Well, you see…" He coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Wheniwentintothekitchenandturnedonthecoffeemachinetomakeyourspecialdrinkthencoffeemachinedecidedto—" He took another breath, "…tobeabitchandwouldn'tworkproperlyandithinkitwantsmedead!"

He stood there stock still and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the reprimand, but much to his surprise it never came. He opened one eye to see L still staring at him quizzically and Light had joined in on the festivities, one impeccably perfect eyebrow raised.

"Ok," L said monotonously. He proceeded to stand and began walking towards the kitchenette, Light quickly following behind, and, once Matsuda figured out he hadn't receive a verbal beating, followed L, a loyal puppy to his master.

Yet, when he passed through the door frame, he ran into Light who appeared to have been frozen to the spot and didn't even turn to look at Matsuda.

Rubbing his nose, Matsuda looked around Light to see why he had stopped. "Light, why'd you…" His voice proceeded to trail off and his two eyes widened greatly as he stared in horror at what L was standing in front of.

There, on the counter was the devil of a coffee machine with a **full** pot of steaming coffee, humming happily, a small stream of steam rising up.

As he stepped forward on shaky legs, he felt his jaw drop. Even more to Matsuda's horror was that standing proudly next to the devil coffee machine was L's special French-Vanilla-Roast-Coffee-with-a-Mountain-of-Whipped-Cream-plus-a-Cherry™, steaming slightly and looking especially delightful.

Ever so slowly, Matsuda peeled his eyes from the evil coffee machine to the side of L's face, a blank and indifferent expression chiseled there. Yet, even Matsuda could see the tension that was lurking just underneath his pasty white skin.

"Ryuuzaki… I—I have no idea… What I mean to say is—um…" He couldn't continue his sentence as L's head slowly rotated towards Matsuda, the tense hinges on his neck creaking in irritation.

"Matsuda-san," L began, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "That was a very cruel joke to play on me, and I…" He tilted his head slightly to the side, still managing to look panda-bear cute in all his wrath, and took to worrying harshly at his thumb. Out of the corner of his eye, Matsuda could see Light inching away from hiss general direction and visibly gulping. L continued, "I do not think that was funny at all."

They stood there, three marble statues of tension and a happily steaming coffee machine making the only sound in the room.

It was tense, so tense.

And so quiet.

It was _excruciatingly_ quiet.

Again Matsuda's eyes widened under L's intense gaze for the second time that night, the corners of his eyes straining and beginning to water as he tried to not blink.

After an innumerable amount of time, Matsuda opened his mouth to say something, but any words that were going to escape his mouth were replaced by a high pitched screech as L poured the pot of coffee down the front of Matsuda's shirt, replaced the pot in the coffee machine, took his special French-Vanilla-Roast-Coffee-with-a-Mountain-of-Whipped-Cream-plus-a-Cherry™ and dragged the gaping Light Yagami back into the investigation room.

Meanwhile, Matsuda had fallen to his knees, the scalding coffee staining his favorite white shirt and burning the skin underneath enough for him to feel L's wrath without it leaving any noticeable scars.

After he had run out of breath from screeching in pain, he turned his angry gaze up to the **evil** coffee pot, heaving oxygen into his lungs while his eye twitched in irritation.

The **evil** coffee pot stood there humming.

It stood there, proud and glowering with happiness and laughing at his pathetic form, bathing itself in the blissful sweetness called revenge.

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**A/N**: Okay, please believe me when I say I do NOT hate Matsuda. In fact, I love him. I think he is spiffy. He is just so easy to make into a goof.

On that note, I'm thinking of doing a drawing of him as Emerill going "BAM!" with the whipped cream can and may post it on Deviantart if I can ever figure out how to upload pictures. I really an computer illiterate.


	6. The Times They Are AChanging

**Disclaimer: **This chapter has LightxL yaoi pairing, so if that type of thing is not to your liking, you-re most welcome to skip it. Also, I am neither gay-bashing nor promoting homosexuality in this.

Thank you! _

**The Times They Are A-Changing – A Lamentation to Camera #90210**

Camera #90210 was one of the older cameras in the security business. It had caught many criminals and young hooligans vandalizing public property. It had gone fifteen years recording people walking towards their individual destinations in the snow uphill both ways and it **never** failed in its duties.

Being an older camera, it took its job seriously, not to be outdone by those young whippersnappers with their new-fangled technology and their rock music and their"free-love hippiism".

Obviously, being an older camera also meant it was more prejudice against the changing times.

Misfortune befell old Camera #90210 when it was assigned to the bedroom at the end of the hall on the fifth floor of the building that L, the world famous detective, had built specifically for the Kira Murder Case. Camera #90210 had initially felt honored to have been chosen for this momentous case and swelled with pride as it was set up and the little red bulb lit up for it to start its work.

After a couple months of recording, Camera #90210 noticed that the detective was now handcuffed to his prime suspect and sharing the room that it was watching. All seemed rather normal to the old-timer, and he worked day-in day-out, working hard for the greater good!

Yet, one night changed everything.

It was around 3:00AM when Camera #90210 noticed that L and Light were doing something strange… beneath… the covers…

'Oh, Lordy, No!' it exclaimed as it saw the brown-haired boy shuffle around and begin moving his hips against the older man's own, clothing was being tossed about the room and Camera #90210 almost sqealed when he saw the young Light Yagami lean down to capture his prey in a smoldering kiss.

You see, Camera #90210 was not "up to speed" with the present generation nor was it "down" with accepting homosexuality. The camera situated from the other side of the room, Camera #666, saw his partner's discomfort and smirked at the old fart.

'Relax, man. You might as well just sit back and enjoy it!' He exclaimed wickedly.

At that moment, there was a groan emitted from the tangled bodies on the bed and the sensual sound of wet, slapping flesh met its ears. The panting grew louder and more wanton and Camera #90210 could hear laughter from Camera #666 at his plight for not being able to turn away from the sight in front of him.

A single tear slid down from Camera #90210's eye, as it realized it was getting too old for this shit.

It began to panic and began silently praying to Jesus, Allah, Buddha, ANYONE for a stop to this madness it was witnessing! Yet, all it continued to hear was Camera #666's cackling and the groans becoming more and more loud.

Then, as two strangled and hoarse cries sounded throughout the room announcing the couple's scorching climax, God (which one, it would never know) answered Camera #90210's plea as the screw holding the camera in the wall was miraculously dislocated and the camera came crashing to its death on the floor, the small red bulb being put out for good.

A surprised yelp came from the bed as two pairs of eyes looked at the culprit who had disturbed their romp.

Still breathing heavily, Light turned surprised amber-hued eyes back to L, exclaiming, "How the fuck did that happen?!"

L, looking equally as disheveled, turned his gaze from the fallen camera to his partner and his eyes turned predatory, making Light gulp before he was _pounced_ on and ravaged, effectively making him forget about courageous Camera #90210.

**A/N**: Well, **that** came out of nowhere. Credit for Camera #90210's name from "Tactical Idiocy", an **amazing** Metal Gear Solid fic. Read it, you'll piss yourself. Great fun!

Anywho, I only wrote this after watching the Chapelle Show episode where he's acting as a blind black man from the South who was convinced by locals that he was white and ended up as a leader for the KKK. Racist, yes. Hilarious, **yes**.

Please don't hate me as I love you all. Muah!


	7. I Am, Am I?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Death Note!

What up, gangstassssss??? Ok, 'spose this one isn't really humor, but I base these tidbits mostly off whatever song I'm shuffling to on my IPodizzle, and I was mind-jamming to Asobi Seksu and was like really confused cause half the time I don't know what the chick is wailing about, but I got really (hmmm, what's the word for this feeling? lemme check the myspace status smileys to see what I was feeling...) ah, yes, _cynical_.

And now my Ipodizzle has shuffled to Lagwagon's "Mr. Coffee". I am _so_ sure this will inspire me to write something else. Probably coming out horrible, but it'll be something sweet and short. Like Bon-Bons. Yum.

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**I Am, Am I?**: **A Lamentation to Handcuffs**

**I** am the chain that gives you reason,

this connection that blooms.

When you have run out of all other excuses just to stay together.

Ah, kindred spirits, **I** see you there

like John Smith with his Pocahontas,

but **I** wonder… **I** can only wonder

which one is John?

which one is Pocahontas?

But **I **can only wonder.

Whom Romeo?

Whom Juliet?

Whom Cheech?

Whom Chong?

**I** am the chain that binds the anger fast

when you can no longer keep it inside, the aspect you used to take pride on.

_Pathetic_.

**I** force you to face it.

Go on and face the feelings that you so precariously kept from sight;

from those you think you have fooled.

**I** am no fool.

For** I** am just a chain.

But you cannot escape me,

neither the one who regrets me nor the one who knew **I** was no good from the beginning.

One looks to the other and murmurs,

"_You_ should have known better."

and

"_I_ told you so."

Go on, go on, go on. Keep talking; **I** won't disappear.

You both think you will be the victor, **I **can see.

But alas, both of you—

_Yes, both_.

–are doomed.

Doomed and constricted, for

**I** am the one.

**I** am the chain which binds you fast.

And **I** will be the victor.

Not _you_, **I**.

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**A/N:** WOW. Is that pair of handcuffs pissy as shit, or what?


	8. Skydiving

**Ahem, so this is what listening to "Mr. Coffee" brings you. *cough* I think I just died a little inside.**

**

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**Skydiving: A Lamentation to Paper**

Light could tolerate a lot. He prided himself on that. He was able to mold his own personality to the situation for the best outcome that would yield the largest profit, monetary or not. Not only that, but he was gloated over since childhood for his manageability.

Light not only had a well-developed personality, but he was blessed with good looks. Shiny, auburn locks, golden skin that seemed to almost shimmer in the sun, and burgundy eyes. He could make those around him swoon and bend to his every whim and need with but the flick of him head. A glare could be deadly, but so could a smile.

Of course, being immaculate takes a lot of work. Primping, if you will, but he would never admit it. He would scoff and just call it healthy living. Combing your hair, brushing your teeth, flossing, plucking your eyebrows, filing your nails, meditating, washing your face with a Vegan face scrub from Sweden containing natural fruit extracts and oils, doing yoga, color coordinating your wardrobe… You know, the usual.

And of course, this immaculateness would influence how he perceived others, comparing their routines to his to gauge their worth. He himself was very organized, everything had a home. Yet, he was always calm and collected, he could hand a mess. He would just have to guide the poor dirty lost souls on their way to cleanliness.

He was _always_ able to contain himself.

So then, one must wonder what happened that first day working with Ryuuzaki. Light had proved himself was eager, motivated, and willing. So why did he, for a lack of a better phrase, flip out?

Well, it was quite simple, actually.

When you see a 25-year-old man who happens to be the three greatest detectives on Earth picking a piece of paper up by the very tip of his pointer finger and thumb (unable to distinguish whether those spindly appendages were actually making contact with whatever document was being held), while surrounded by thousands of other very important documents lying on the ground, and hearing the ones being thrown over his shoulder in a flurry of white cry "Whee!" and proceeding to skydive back to its friends huddled around said detectives bare feet…

Well, let's just say you would want to crack too.

And now, it is three hours later since Light came in contact with said detective, and Light is calm again.

All it took was a fist through his computer monitor and seven stitches.

No biggie.


	9. Chicken!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Death Note. Rightly so, because if I did, it'd turn out reallllyyy fucked up.

Anyway, this is kinda whack/crackish. It's been a long day. I'm adding Latin to my language repetoire this summer (in addition to Spanish, Italian, and Ancient Greek), so my mind is boggled. Whatevs. :)

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**Chicken! – A Lamentation to L's Twelve Cell Phones**

It was quite early the September morning when L returned to the task force. He was mentally reviewing the alibi he would give his detectives for just getting on his jet and leaving the three days prior. Why he felt he needed an alibi, no one would know. He wondered since when he had to start answering to his fellow men of justice, but quickly brushed the thought aside.

Traipsing past the metal detector toward the elevator, his mind wandered back to the three bundles of energy who forced him to take precious time again from psychopath-hunting. Not that he didn't need a break. They all had been getting nowhere within the past few weeks and there was a constant tension and animosity throughout the work place that seemed to grow and grow.

But yes, today he would take Light back out of his cell where he had stranded him when he had taken off. Today, he would put the handcuffs back on, and ever allow Light a long, _private_ bath in order to refrain the boy from asking too many poignant questions about L's whereabouts. Really, the boy was too intelligent for his own good.

But no, Light was Kira, and Light had no right to know L's whereabouts. L was not about to risk losing his successors, _again_. Inwardly, he cringed at the thought.

No, they Wammy's House had had enough difficulty with the first generation. it only made sense that they attempt an amicable approach with this one. These _were_ his future successors, after all. Not to mention the fact that L had grown rather fond of Mello, Matt, and Near. They were all so promising in their own way and they were L's pride and joy, all faults aside, but he would never _ever_ openly admit to such a thing. No, he would still make them work for his affections. He would still test them, a slight positive reinforcement, if you will.

This was not the only reason he had made his way back to Winchester for his "family time". L had finally succumbed to the guilt collecting about him over the past year and a half. He had been neglecting three of the most important people for him while out on a vendetta for Beyond, and now getting wrapped up in the Kira investigation… It was no wonder Watari warned him to never procreate; he never _made_ the time to be with those closest to him.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he pulled one of his twelve phones out of his small travel duffle bag. The other contents were his personal laptop (with power cable) and a bag of Tootsie Roll Pops that Mello had been saving to give to him as a present.

He turned the phone over in his hand, checking out the new modifications that Matt had applied to it. Little did he know that the trio had Matt put in _extra_ modifications for making them wait so long to see him again. Hey, no harm done, right?

He then dialed Watari, telling him to release Light back to their joint bedroom. As the elevator stops on their floor, he thinks better of it, and pushes the button to take him to the investigation room. He might as well check his team's progress, if there was any.

Truth be told, he was becoming disheartened. The office had more piles, it was true they had more information, but nothing of note could be seen pointing to a breakthrough.

He pulled out another one of his phones, looking it over and fiddling to reply to an e-mail Russia had sent him regarding an attempted assassination. '_Too easy._', he thought to himself as he again boarded the elevator. They had sent him pictures of the bullet used, cat hair found at the sniper location, and a list of the man's ex-wives. From that and the political scandals he followed from Russia, he was easily able to suggest the perpetrator. He wouldn't even make them pay, this one was on the house.

He paused in the hallway, a thumb hanging off his lip and his eyes pointing towards the ceiling.

'_I'm fucking McGuyver._'

A small grin spread itself across his face as he made his way down the hall and through the last door on the right.

As soon as he entered the room, he could feel the tension pouring in waves from the bedroom, making him feel like the cheating husband coming home to a disgruntled wife. He had to stifle a chuckle as the mental image of 50's housewife Light entered his mind, cooking strawberry pie. Mmm, pie.

Closing the door behind him, he sauntered into the bedroom to a visibly angry Light sitting on the bed, legs and arms crossed revealing his discomfort, and his perfect browns knitted in contempt, staring straight at L.

He spared him only a passing glance before heading to the desk and putting his computer down on it almost reverently, along with the twelve cell phones and, lastly, his Tootsie Roll Pops.

Light cleared his throat and gave a pointed glare at L when he turned back towards him, saucer eyes boring into him, but Light did not budge. No, Light was pissed. The incompetent detective had the _nerve_ to put him back into confinement without his consent and then seemingly _abandoned_ the case. No, Light was royally pissed.

L stared at him a bit longer, looking almost complacent, and then opened his bag and held a Tootsie Roll Pop out to his angry companion as if it were the scum of the universe. A small smile graced his lips when he said, "Are not you supposed to say 'Welcome home', Light-kun?"

He barely had time to mentally pat himself on the back before Light hit him with a right upper-cut, making his jaw ricochet skyward.

"COCKSUCKER!", L heard Light shout as he came in to land another punch on his opponent when L kicked Light, **hard**, across the stomach, then proceeding to sweep his legs out from under him.

Once Light was flat on the ground, L pinned him down with his knees.

"Language, Light-kun."

"I don't fucking care right now, you bastard! You left me here!"

Light attempted to wiggle his way from under L, but was help tight.

"So I did."

"And?", Light huffed expectantly, finally giving up the fight for freedom to his anger.

"And what, Light-kun?"

"And _where_ do you get the gall to just up and leave? I cannot begin to express how unprofessional that it!"

L put a finger to his bottom lip. "Is it now?"

"YES, Ryuuzaki, it is. I mean, really. What were you doing??"

From the look the teen was sending his way, L knew the issue would not be dropped. Sighing, he replied, "Important… stuff."

"Like?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Detective stuff."

L may be answering, but it didn't mean he had to be truthful.

Light huffed indignantly and said, "So what kind of detective stuff is more important than catching Kira right now? If there was a case that needed your attention right now than this one, I would have heard of it." Light twisted his body slightly to peer at Ryuuzaki, a small hint of something close to hurt peeking out through his well-crafted mask. "Really, Ryuuzaki-san, I thought you had abandoned me in that cell."

L felt his eyes widen slightly at Light's suddenly heartfelt near-confession. It was really strange seeing him allow his emotions to show through his impenetrable mask. Well, other than anger and pride, that is.

He couldn't help teasing the boy a bit.

Leaning down next to Light's ear, he whispered, "Why Light-kun, it almost sounds like you missed me."

L could see the crimson blush spread across Light's cheeks as a mortified expression replaced his previous one. Opening his mouth, he quickly retorted, "I—"

"—_**'m a Barbie girl! In a Barbie world! I'm made of plastic! It's fantastic!**_"

The sound succinctly shut down both males thought processes for a second before they both began looking around for the culprit.

A few seconds of silence passed and L removed his hands from Light to scratch his head as Light got up from his position, rubbing his shoulders.

"O… k." he stated. "What was that?"

L looked back at Light. "I have no idea Light—" Yet again, one of them was cut off by another song.

"_**If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends! Make it last forever, friendship never ends!**_"

Light jumped up as the song ended and walked towards the desk, just as another song was beginning: "_**Give it to me, Baby! Uh huh! Uh huh! Give it to me Baby! The girls think I'm pretty fly for a white guy.**_"

Light raised an eyebrow as he picked up a phone of the desk and held it up for L as the mortified expression transferred to L's face when he realized where the infernal songs were coming from. "No." he said.

Light nodded in confusion before another one on the table started singing, "_**When I grow up, I wanna be famous! I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies. When I grow up, I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies!**_"

L shook his head, his unhappiness permanently set in stone on his face and Light began to smirk as he again nodded his head and picked up the next phone beginning to ring, "_**Shawty wanna thug. Bottles in the club. Shawty wanna hump. And oh I like to touch your lady lumps. Shawty wanna li-li-lick me like a lollipop!**_"

Light couldn't help himself and laughed as realization dawned on L's face at the nickname his previous successors had deemed him came into play. A quick blush spread across his face as he was stuck in a mortified state. He didn't even look up when Light flipped open one of phones before holding it out to L.

L looked up quizzically before getting his bearings and reaching for his phone, which Light pulled pack suddenly and wrapped an arm around L's slim waist, now bringing his own lips to L's ear.

"Someone wants to talk to you, **Lo-lli-pop**." He made sure to enunciate each syllable and inwardly cheered as the blush spread from L's cheeks to his ears and down his neck before the man pushed Light away and, aggravated, held the phone inches away from his ear with pointer finger and thumb.

"Yes?" He said in a flat tone.

"FINALLY, you pick up, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" L had to hold the phone a few more inches away from the phone as Light cocked an eyebrow from the volume of the person's voice. He held Light's curious gaze before the boy rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he was sure the door was closed and locked, L stated, "Language, Mello."

"Well, we were beginning to inquire amongst ourselves when it would be that you would feel the need to call us to let us know you arrived safely at your destination." A distinctively quieter voice whispered, and was that a smirk L could hear hidden in that message?

He sighed. "So, do I owe my thanks to you for my wonderful new ringtones?"

"…No, that would be Matt. He excels in electronic media." The soft voice replied.

"Nuh uh! Don't blame that on me, Mello told me to do it!" He could hear the redhead shout in the background.

"OI! SHUT THE FUCK UP RED!"

L sighed yet again. "_Language_, Mello."

A pause, then a growl, then a "…sorry."

"Better," L exclaims. "Well, thank you for trying to… enlighten my musical quarry, but I think I will be changing these ringtones soon."

"WHAT?? WHY?"

"Weak, n00b! I spent hours of good GTA4 playtime trying to cop that shit for you!"

"Please watch your language, Matt, I am only eleven years old."

"Whatever, little Nearie-pooooo…!"

"Mello, refrain from using that nickname."

"Or what?"

"I'll get Roger to limit your chocolate supply for the week."

"You _wouldn't_…"

"He has before Mels."

"STFU, Matty."

L waited a few moments to make sure they were done before continuing. "Now, as I was saying. I am changing these ringtones back to what they were and I would like the three of you to refrain from contacting these numbers while I am at work. This is a very serious case I am working on."

"Yeah, yeah, Kira, Kira, yadda, yadda."

"No way, L! You can't change them! You should be suffering a little bit for leaving us for so long!", Mello exclaimed.

Matt chimed in, "Yeah, it's like, every time your phone goes 'green green', You'll 'pink' it up, say 'yellow', and think of … MELLO!" He then burst into giggles.

"…"

"Dude, your jokes suck."

"STFU n00b."

"Boys," L tried to gain control of this conversation but felt himself losing. "I am **not** keeping these."

There was silence, then.

"Oh, so you're a chicken?"

L made a pointed stare at the phone. "No, I am not."

"Oh, I think he is, right Matt?"

"Oh, yeah. L is a big, scared **chicken**."

L grimaced. "NO. No, I'm not."

"…Actually, I think L resembles a panda more than a chicken…"

"Shut up, Near."

"…You cannot tell me what to do Mello."

"CAN TO…!!!—"

"Well, **I** will continue to think L is a chicken if he takes the ringtones off, and believe me when I say, I will know if you take them off!"

Two other voices joined in affirmation.

"Boys, that is ridiculous and completely illogical."

"Oh, so L cant handle then."

"Pardon…?"

"I SAID YOU CANT HANDLE! How about this, L, I will give you three months worth of my special chocolate if you keep the ringtones, till the Kira case is over."

L's eyes widened slightly at the prospects. Not even _Watari_ had told him where Mello had acquired such excellent chocolate. Furthermore, he couldn't believe Mello was actually giving up his stash for L to keep some fruity song selections on his phones.

After a long pause, he heard Mello huff and say, "What, too **chicken**?"

L's eyes narrowed dangerously as he spotted Light emerging from the bathroom, practically _sparkling_ and seemingly more content that he was not scrutinized while performing his daily cleansing ritual.

After another moment, there can a chorus of: "**CHICKEN**!!" from over the phone and Light looked over quizzically before L rolled his eyes and screamed, "Oh, you're on!" into the phone before slamming it shut and shoving it deep within the recesses of his pockets.

Eyebrows still raised, Light asks, "What was that all about?"

L sighs and stares apathetically ahead of himself.

'It's going to be a long case.'

* * *

Two months later, and the detectives could still not grow used to the ringtones on L's phones. When Yagami-san asked him about his peculiar song choice, L simply stared at him and asked if he was not a Hannah Montana fan, which promptly made the elder man blush and regret ever asking.

In addition, every time one of the phones would ring, Matsuda would start singing along with it, exclaiming, "That's my jam!" They tried their hardest to ignore him, but as the young and oblivious NPA officer belted out "_**If I Were A Boy**_!", L groaned once again and Light buried his head in his hands.

Oh yes, it was going to be a long case.


	10. Bad Rap

**Disclaimer:** Don't own DN.

MAN, these things keep coming out like gang busters.

* * *

**Bad Rap: A Lamentation to Cake**

He couldn't take it anymore.

It just was **not** his day.

It had started out bad when he found out he was the sacrificial victim (the first of the day) for the greater good. Neato. And presently, he was trying to contain the mania that was growing in him. He just couldn't _stand_ it. If he had to listen to one more, horribly-delivered, monotonous, drawling, purely _imbecile_ attempt at a—

"Kira says 'what'."

"What?"

"Got you, Light-kun."

The cake that was propped neatly in the space between the two genii mentally screamed. He then quickly and succinctly pushed himself over the edge of the counter and to his death, right as L's fork was drifting back towards it.

The typing stopped as L and Light crossed confused looks before L's face transformed into a full-blown **pout** and Light rolled his eyes, turning his eyes back to more "important" matters.

Then, a smirk spread across Light's lips as he said, "There's the proof that your jokes really _are_ that bad, Ryuuzaki-san." He happily decided the glare from L was worth it.

* * *

**A/N:** And now y'all should got click the review button up there, for shits and giggles. And for the fact that I said "y'all" and meant it. Cheers!


	11. Yum Part Deux

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own DN. Nor do I own this mini-poem dedicated to cake.

**Author Story time: **I was volunteering at Young Writer's Camp 2009 at CSULB and there's a little boy (forse… aveva 6 anni? Whatevs, he looked like a **MINI L!!**), ma, he asked me to listen to his poem that he wrote about his favorite treat. This was what he sang to me. Yes, he stood on the picnic table in front of me and _sang_ his poem. I gave him a round of applause and he bowed. Che adorabile!

I'm typing it out exactly how he wrote it, so don't harsh my groove about spelling. He was like six for Christ's sake!!  Also, my title is in bold and his is being underlined.

* * *

**Yum (Part Deux): A Special 2****nd**** Lamentation to Cake**

Cake!

Cake! cake! cake!

i realy like cake

the more i see

the more i take

It's what I like to bake

oh cake! cake! cake!

i realy love cake

* * *

**A/N: Anche, prima che dimentico, to that **_**special someone**_** who reviewed twice: **

**Not genius, per se, I simply aim to please. *winks***

**You are awesome. **

**Now everyone… keep on keeping on! **


	12. Happiness Comes Dressed as a Panda

**A/N:** I had to write something unrelentingly happy as it is my 21st birthday today (July 27th). Yeahhh!!! Please, lemme know what you think.

* * *

**Panda Suit – A Lamentation to Birthdays**

It was approximately six twenty-tree on a Tuesday morning on October 31st and L is feeling cynical and lonely. Today is Halloween. It is a day when little boys and little girls get dressed up and wear masks and paint their faces and door to door, getting sweet treats.

Now, L has always loved Halloween day, not only for the candy (oh GOD, the candy), but also for the fact that his birthday falls on Halloween day. Fitting for a sweets addict, no? It was the one day a year when Wammy would find him a costume he wanted and he would be able to go out and have fun with the other kids at the orphanage. He would wander up and down the streets, racing to the next house, laughing at unimportant things, and all around just being what a child ought to be. It felt beautiful. It felt like a gift. Every time a person would open the door and hand him candy, he felt connected to the world outside, like each individual was giving him a special birthday present, just for him to savor.

It felt like a thank you for all he had done for society.

Yet, over time, he was able to go out on Halloween less and less, for he would be away in another country, or working on a new case, or be shut away in his room at Wammy's trying to help protect the world from those who wanted to bring it down and the more he actually thought about it, the more he realized that the neighbors were not actually giving him a birthday present, they were just filling their quota on what ought to be done on this specific holiday. Just like putting up Christmas lights at Christmas and just like hiding eggs on Easter. It was tradition and it was something that must be done. As time went on, L became more cynical to the world's plight. Over time, he became more antagonistic to Halloween. Over time, he became more disgusted with birthdays.

For what was a birthday, other than a day when everyone congratulated you for surviving another year?

So now it was approximately five minutes until seven o'clock on a Tuesday Halloween morning in October and L was feeling cynical and lonely. He shakes his head, attempting to push the useless thoughts from his mind, for the task force was supposed to meet him in a few minutes, and he would be damned if he were late. Not that it mattered. They weren't really getting anywhere since Higuchi was caught, and L could feel the original Kira slipping further and further from his grasp. No, he needed a clear head. He needed to catch this one. He could not be persuaded. He could not lose.

Turning the corner into the investigation room, L notices that it looks particularly eerie in the morning glow. As he sits, pulling his knees to his chest, he sees Watari has left his jacket lying across the table. The corner of L's lip twitches as he supposes Watari is in the kitchen, finishing up L's special cake. L would never admit it openly, but Watari makes the best cake out of every bakery he has ever tried, but Watari rarely cooks and only does so once a year on L's birthday. Whether this is not to spoil him or to prevent diabetes, L will never know.

Then something else catches his eye in the glowing light of the computer monitors. There is a piece of paper sticking out of Watari's inner pocket.

L, curious detective that he is, looks around the room quickly, then grabs the worn paper between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it in front of his face, and he has to quickly suppress the astonishment he feels flooding through his body.

The picture is old and worn around the edges, smudged with what looks to be cake mix and some other unidentifiable but once edible substance. The color is yellowing a bit and there are crease lines where it had been folded, but the picture itself is still intact and absolutely stunning in its implications.

It depicts a young L, possibly six or seven year old, smiling openly down the staircase at something (most likely the other children). He was wearing a black and white fluffy panda suit, completely with ears and paws, and special face paint around his eyes and a black dot on his nose, completing the look. But what really makes his hold his breath is the candidness of the picture. L had **never** been one to take pictures voluntarily, for obvious reasons and he trusted Watari to make sure to enforce this rule. That Watari had somehow taken a picture of L, positively _beaming_ no less, and kept it on his person astonished L and he could feel his heart clench at the fact that there was someone who wanted him, who needed him, and who cared for him. A family possibly?

L wasn't allowed to dwell on these emerging feelings for long for the door was pushed open and L barely had enough time to stuff the picture into his jeans as he turned his head to see Watari entering the room with a plate and a small, contemplative smile on his face.

L's face was blanketing his emotions as he watched the older man approach and set the plate of special Watari hand-made strawberry cheesecake with strawberry drizzle atop it in front of him. He then leant down and whispered a small "Happy Birthday," to the detective, L thanking him with a small smile before Watari patted the top of L's head and went to set up the rest of the appetizers and refreshments upon the small table in the middle of the room as the task force began to enter the room, as if on cue.

L has to duck his head slightly to hide the pink that had dusted itself across his cheeks.

The day floated by quietly and easily, all the while L carefully dissected his cheesecake, taking purposeful bites and savoring each flavor that surfaced, barely concerning himself with Matsuda's lateness.

Around mid-morning, Misa bounds into the investigation room, pigtails more lively than usual, and makeup perfectly applied. Yet, instead of tackling Light per normal, she quickly runs over and whispers quietly to Matsuda, who promptly squeals and runs from the room, before bounding over to L **himself** and says, "Ryuuzaki-san! Misa-Misa would really appreciate it if you would watch her new commercial! She recorded it just this morning and she thinks you will really like it!"

L has to blink a couple times before realizing that she is looking at him eagerly.

"And what purpose would this bring to me, Misa-san?", L inquires, eyeing her.

Misa puts out her bottom lip in a pout, but her eyes are still smiling as she fakes being hurt and replies, "Oh, Ryuuzaki-sa, it would just make Misa-Misa so incredibly happy if you watched her commercial. Right? Oh!" She turns to Light and pulls him into a tight embrace. "Light-kun should also watch Misa-Misa's new commercial! I'm sure he will like it, too, just not for the same reasons as Ryuuzaki-san…" She looks towards the clock on the wall. "Oh!! It's coming on soon!"

Another eager look from Misa makes Light and L exchange quizzical glances before L sighs lightly and switches on the overhead monitor, Misa guiding him to the correct channel.

The whole this is very colorful and Misa is playing around with other models, trying on different costumes and outfits, obviously promoting the holiday. She appears in the center after a while and addresses the camera: "Now Misa-Misa wants everyone to have a very safe and fun Halloween, getting lots of tricks and lots of treats!" L thinks this is the end of the commercial and is about to question Misa on its purpose _yet again_ when he hears her continue. He inclines his head to the television. "And to my… special… friend, Ryuuzaki-san, a very super special cake-filled birthday time to you! Misa-Misa wishes everyone the best on this most fun of holidays! Happy Halloween everyone!" She proceeds to wave and the commercial backs out and soon flickers over to another commercial for a new mall that had just opened.

The entire room is silent as all eyes are stuck on L and his eyes are stuck on the images passing across the television screen, but nothing is really registering in his mind at the moment. He is brought back from his internal questioning by Light's voice. "It… It's your birthday, Ryuuzaki-san?" Apparantly, he is just as astonished as L himself is.

L looks to him quickly but then to Misa as she giggles.

"How did you know?" He asks, unable to raise his voice over the ringing in his ears.

As she begins, Matsuda enters the room again with something held behind his back, a silly smile plastered to his face as he comes to stand beside Misa-Misa, who is making wild hand gestures as she explains her story.

"Well, Mr. Manager-san here was going to get something to eat from the kitchen the other day and apparently he saw Watari-san baking a cake and Misa-Misa doesn't know about you, but Misa-Misa has never seen Mr. Watari-san baking before, so he asks Watari-san why and Watari-san told him that it will be your birthday tomorrow… Or today? Well, so anyways Manager-san told Misa-Misa when she and Manager-san were heading to the commercial shoot this morning and Misa-Misa decided that she wanted to let the world know that she told you Happy Birthday, even though Ryuuzaki-san can be kind of a pervert sometimes…" At that she trailed off and looked to Light, then L, an expectant look adorning her features.

L's eyes are wider than normal, if that is even possible, but a downcast expression seeps into his face and he has to avert his eyes to the ground, mumbling, "But why go to such lengths for such a trivial matter…"

Misa-Misa huffs breathily and places her hands on her hips, gothic Lolita boots planted firmly on the ground and a sweet smile on her lips. "Because that's what friends do for one another, silly! Geez… And Ryuuzaki-san is supposed to be a genius…" Both she and Matsuda begin laughing, and even Soichirou and Aizawa can be heard chuckling under their breath in the background.

As the happy vibe permeates the room, L can feel the corner of his lips wanting to pull up and he can feel that small little tug at his heart deep in the recesses of his chest once again.

He is brought back to reality when Matsuda and Misa begin counting to three, then cheer, "Happy Birthday!!!" before handing him a large basket with a red bow on top.

L carefully takes the basket and, balancing it on his knees, takes the covering off the top of the basket only to gasp slightly with what he finds. Chocolate covered strawberries upon chocolate covered strawberries lay piled inside the basket. Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, even some dipped in caramel come to view.

Looking back and forth from his knees to the two overly happy humans in front of him, L feels at a loss with what to do, for he feels like he wants to laugh and cry and can't decide. Matsuda motions for him to eat a strawberry and Misa says, "C'mon, try them! It took Manager-san and Misa-Misa a long time to do all those." L swallows a little before selecting a particularly red strawberry with white chocolate drizzle to its brim. He picks it up reverently and takes a small bite out of the end, cautiously, slowly. A small red line made its way down L's chin from the corner of his lips and a soft pink tongue came out to lap it up before a small smile spread itself across his face as he looked back up into Misa and Matsuda's puppy dog eyes.

"They are delicious." Such a small statement was said slowly and with much care.

Matsuda and Misa smiled at each other and gave a silly high five before L placed the basket on the desk next time himself.

"I think…" he began. "…that everyone on the task force has been working incredibly hard, and are deserving of a break. You are all free to go home for the day."

Matsuda and Misa gave each other another silly high five before the team members began gathering together their things and each individually saying goodbye to L before departing, but L could barely hear what they had to say. He was too busy focusing all his energy on keeping his impenetrable mask from failing. He was good at hiding, and he knew how to deal with crooks and criminals of the worst breeds, but L had never had time to become accustomed to kindness, and at present, was finding himself overwhelmed.

Hell, he barely cares when Light tells him that he will be staying to help with the Kira case and will walk Misa out to her car. Hell, Kira be damned!

When everyone is out of the room and L is again alone for the second time that morning, he does not find the quiet oppressive, but it glides over him smoothly and happily, kissing his skin and providing the detective with a sense of tranquility.

After a moment, he get up and, scratching one foot with the other, takes the basket of strawberries in one hand and the plate of cheesecake in the other and sits on the soft suede couch, placing his gifts lightly upon the coffee table in front of himself. He takes in each and every small detail; from the careful way the wicker basket was made to the designs drawn with strawberry sauce on the cheesecake, taking small bites of the cake and strawberries from time to time, careful not to drop a single morsel.

He remembers something and slips the picture from his pocket and stares at it, taking in what his own features looked like, memorizing what a pure, untainted and happy smile is supposed to be. He barely even notices the tears that have begun to run in light tracks down his cheeks, softly kissing the pale skin.

He is deep in mindless self-concentration when Light returns. Light looks to the sofa and softly approaches the detectives back and looks over his should slightly. He can feel himself swallow a gasp as he watches the oblivious detective touch his presents, eat them, smile and _cry_ as he looks on at quite possibly the most adorable picture that Light has ever seen. Light can't help but think that a panda suit is quite fitting for the insomniac and feels his own heart clench as he watches the tears run down pale cheeks.

He could care less about ridding the world of evil for one day. At the moment, all that mattered is whatever it was that could make L cry, make L human, make L _alive_.

His control snaps when he hears L's feeble attempt at holding back a choked sob, and Light brings his arms down and around the thin body in front of him, hearing the audible gasp from the detective as his body tenses under strong arms before relaxing slightly.

And before the detective can start questioning his motives, Light uses a hand to tilt L's head towards him and begins placing soft kisses up the tear tracks adorning his face and under L's eyes before placing a soft, chaste kiss on the detectives lips and whispering a breathy, "Happy Birthday…" as he pulls away. Now _that_ was a completely different experience than the Watari birthday wishes that morning, L muddles and then releases and small, "Why?"

Light takes this moment to tighten his grip on the lanky, pale man and repeat Misa's words from before, "Because that's what friends do, silly…"

He almost laughs out loud when he sees a blush working its way through L's cheeks and teary eyes look away from Light's prying eyes, almost shyly. Light does laugh when L puts both his arms around what he can of Light's arms (as light's arms are still wrapped tightly around his body) and Light realizes this is as close to a hug as the detective can get at the moment.

He hears the man beneath him let out a small alarmed noise as he buries his nose in the crook of L's neck and breaths in his scent lightly. He smells of strawberries…

Light begins quietly, "You know, **L**, had I known it was your birthday, my presents would have been a lot better…"

L has to pause and ponder for a moment at the indignant, almost jealous tone, coming from Light's statement and squeezes his arms tight around Light's as he decides that maybe people are not so bad after all.

Oh, and panda suits. Those aren't so bad either.


	13. Beyond Birthday Looks Beyond Birthdays

**A/N:** Oh Beyond Birthday, you crazy bastard, how I love you so. Do review the story, albeit drabblesque.

* * *

**Beyond Birthday looks Beyond Birthdays – A Lamentation to Identities**

What are we really but letters of the alphabet? And who really belongs to whom? Do we own each other, like dogs own their humans and train them to deliver food and treats just as humans train their dogs to play dead? Or do we meld together, transcending our bodies and flowing together like soul mates?

It's Beyond Birthday's birthday, though he rarely remembers the date anymore, he just knows that today is the day. But it doesn't matter anyway. _His_ birthday never really mattered, it was just a number in the shadow of a more important date and time and letter. "B" comes before "L" in the alphabet, but that doesn't mean it stands for something better. Beyond still wonders what the L stands for, because it must be something incredibly important. Not like B, which only stands for "backup", the second, the one in waiting, used only in time of necessity.

But if L is the best, why is there a need for a Backup?

Beyond supposed there isn't, but he lets L and Watari and Roger indulge themselves, just a little, just because it's what _L_ wants, and what _L_ wants,_ L_ gets. Why? Because he is _L_ and L is the most important thing in the universe. More important that Backup. More important than **jam**, and that's saying something.

Because Beyond loves L, so anything L deems worthy, is.

Which obviously is having a Backup that he doesn't use. A Backup who's birthday he doesn't remember. And a Backup who he doesn't realize loves him.

Oh, what is a Backup to do, other than sit and wait to be called upon?

So, here is Beyond, sitting on the roof of Wammy's, wishing he wasn't a Backup.

Something catches his eye though as he tenses when a black upside-down mop of hair comes into view from overhead of where he is sitting, black eyes wide and owl-like, boring into B's soul and he has to supress a shiver that he just _knows_ L would be able to see.

So, he stares right back into those penetrating eyes, and waits, remaining scrunched up with knees pulled to his chest, wide eyes mimicing the detectives. Was imitation not the sincerest form of flattery?

Slowly, L pulls one of his ghostly limbs to bring an ornately decorated bowl in front of B's face. It takes him a moment to realize that L wants him to take it, but he does and lifts the paper towel off the top of the bowl and is only half surprised to find the bowl containing a pile of the reddest strawberries Beyond has ever seen.

He puts on a quizzical face to stare at L in silent questioning and L crouches next to B, where he motions to the bowl and monotolously says, "Today is your birthday." It was more of a passing statement rather than a question or an affirmation. "I have seen you eating strawberry jam quite often. You would benefit from indulging in the fruit itself."

He stares at Beyond over thin kneecaps that create sharp points underneath such baggy jeans and one can see the curve of his spine bending in a perfect curve through the sheer white shirt and Beyond takes in the detective's appearance for a moment before looking back to the fruit.

Another quick glance at L and he takes a small, crimsom strawberry into his mouth, biting gently, as if it were going to burst if he ate too fast. As the naturally sweet and slightly passionate taste alerted his taste buds, Beyond closes his eyes and tilts his head down to hide the beginnings of a small blush.

When he looks up at his partner again, the blush turns up a few notches as he sees the small curve forming upon L's thin lips. They look at each other for a minute, then every once in a while Beyond eats a strawberry and offers L one, for who was L to turn down a perfectly good strawberry.

No words are passed the entire time nor as L silently raises himself off the rooftop, his joints popping to an unknown tune with each slight stretch made, and makes his way back down the small popup staircase to the attic below, leaving Beyond alone again.

Yet, this time he is not really alone, for L has given him a gift, and Beyond knows that he can hold out just a little bit longer. He can sustain being just a Backup for just a little bit longer. Yes, he can be the shadow to L and he can be L when L needs him to be L.

B will try to be the best L he can be, for L has remembered something inherently B.

Yes, he will be B and he will be L and he will indulge the two for just a little bit longer.

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**A/N:** Now that wasn't too bad, right? :D I wrote this at work under time pressure, but it came out all right. Might go back over it some. WHATEVER. I aim to please!


	14. Noise Versus Silence

**A/N:** Enjoy the whackness of my mind. Oh dear God, help us all.

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**Noise versus Silence – A Lamentation to Speakers**

Everyone that the twelve year old L had ever known was sure that he had a horribly morbid sense of humor. Unfortunately for him, his speaker system had a worse one, as it liked to play tricks on him. It was very mean, but L would never admit that the speakers had it out for him. He could not look like a fool in front of the team he was leading, as he already had to make up for their stereotyping his intelligence because of his young age in the first place.

In fact, most of the time, the people he came in contact with believed him to simply be a very lucky brat who had the fortune of spotting clues. Still, just a brat.

So even though he was internally waging war with his the speakers sitting not a foot away from him, he absolutely **refused** to act his age in this situation.

But as patient as the twelve year old genius was, his patience was walking a very thin tightrope. For every time someone would approach him with new data or he would try to address his subordinates of what type of patterns they should be looking for, the speakers would blare with—for lack of a better description—very colorful language and some questionable grunts and moans.

Now, L **knew** that he was seen as a child and being a prepubescent boy was not at all helping his situation, but the icing on the cake was delivered when a particularly loud scream of "**HARDER!**" was distributed throughout the especially quiet room and Watari calmly walked leaned towards the miserable and blushing boy and whispered, "You know, if you need some time alone… I'm sure I can arrange something."

And as the young detective buried his tomato red face in his knees at the most recent embarrassing statement from his father-figure, his atheist mind could only come up with… well, what any normal twelve year old mind would come up with: '_God_, why me??!'

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**A/N:** Please review! Y'all are awesome!


	15. Near the Brink of Insanity

**Disclaimer:** I OWN NOTHINGGGG.

**A/N:** I wrote this on a coaster when I went to this wonderful little bar on 2nd Street in Belmont Shores. Actually I wrote it on about four coaster over the course of thirty poorly dj'ed songs and a jack and coke, a mai tai, a peach margherita, and about three Peroni's. That should explain the extreme crackness and poorly developed physics in this chapter. :D **REVIEWS ARE LOVELY!!!**

**Oh, and I really don't know what "**" you're talking about from the last chapter. I don't have them showing on my browser. O_O  
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**Near the Brink of Insanity – A Lamentation to Robots**

Near was running through the corridors of Wammy's house, frantic and out of breath from lack of using his limbs in any form of activity throughout the short years of his life. His heart had never beaten that hard nor had he ever felt the burn coursing through his calves. The oncoming of shin splints attacked him brutally, but his will was stronger than ever.

No, he was not panicking because of L's untimely death. That was not the case. He was not running from some terror or form of bullying that often occurred in a house full of young orphans, although Mello would often be fair game for that activity. Nor was he running around like a madman to _exercise_, as the word and subsequent activity just did not appear in his repertoire.

No, he was running—searching, because the worst has happened.

Someone had taken his robot, Jeffrey.

And Near was in a flurry over it.

While Near had finally finished his excursion of the west wing of Wammy's, Jeffrey was sitting captive taped to the inside of Matt's computer in the room he shared with Mello. Mello, after being sentenced to his room after his latest failure to the white-haired boy, decided that the brat needed a lesson. When Matt inquired to what lesson taking Near's robot would serve, Mello just told him to shut up and open his PC. So, Matt shrugged and did so. He didn't want Mello spazzing on him and taking something equally as precious from him, no matter how close they were.

So, they had taped Jeffrey to the inside of the computer and Jeffrey was upset.

Why would anyone separate him from the one he loved? Near was good to him. He talked to him, told him all his thoughts, discussed quantum mechanics and how to fix a rotor engine with only a toothpick… the important stuff. They spent every hour of every day doing everything together, and Jeffrey could think of no one he would rather be with.

So what sort of sick bastard would ruin _that_?

These people were evil.

And the inside of the computer was getting really hot (even though Jeffrey was just a plastic toy and really didn't have any receptors that anyone knew of).

And he missed his Neary-poo.

And gosh darn it, he had just about enough.

So it was to his great relief that the tape was slowly melting away in the heat and Matt had opened up the computer tower at the very moment the tape snapped and Jeffrey fell down… down… down to the ground below, bouncing off Matt's bare foot.

Startled by the leaping robot, Matt yelped and kicked his foot up, watching as Jeffrey began flying through the air. As Matt fell slightly onto his butt at the robots charade, his twitching eyes met sight of Jeffrey flying through the door, into the corridor, bouncing off the opposite wall harshly and out of view.

More afraid of what Mello would do if Near found his robot outside their room, Matt hopped up onto his still sore feet and rushed out the door where he spotted the robot continue his journey, bouncing off the floor a couple times down the plush hallway and finally landing on a skateboard that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Apparently Jeffrey was a lot heavier than the boys knew, for the skateboard began rolling and rolling down the hallway… right into Near's room, which happened to be at the end. He had the single room because no one wanted to room with him, thus it was at the end of the hall, close to the stairwell.

Matt breathed a sigh of relief and, looking around quickly made his way to the room.

Yet, when he was about to cross the threshold, he felt a gust of wind billowing in from Bear's open window, which, instead of rolling the skateboard back out into the corridor, decided to focus all its energy on slamming the door in his face.

Stunned with wide eyes beneath yellow goggles and hand still raised, he cocked an eyebrow and tried the door, only to find it was locked.

Panic set it as all color drained from the hacker's face.

'_Oh Dear Lord._' he thought.

It was only a matter of time before Mello came back to a tense Matt, who had the _gall_ to try to convince him that the robot magically made its own way back into Near's room. Yeah right, like _that_ could happen. Matt had a chocolate bar chucked at his head, then more screams for making said chocolate bar be thrown at his head.

All the while, down the hall, Near quietly made his way into his room, a forlorn expression on his face, until he opened the door to find his beloved Jeffrey sitting on a skateboard in the middle of his room, arms outstretched and large robot eyes fixed on his face.

Matt and Mello had to both pause in the scream fest to exchange quizzical looks at the squeal of joy that emanated throughout the hallway, before deciding they _really_ didn't want to know.

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**A/N: **Eh, it's aight. I'm going to go listen to Spice Girls. Holla at me! Peace, I'm outtie.


	16. Staggering Pointless, but Staggering

**Disclaimer:** I OWN NOTHING!!!

**A/N:** Another one?? What what WHAT???

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**Staggering. Pointless, but Staggering. – A Lamentation to Perfect Hair**

Light twitched.

The sound of scraping between utensil and container met his ears, but he didn't care.

Again, Light twitched.

Papers falling to the ground and Matsuda's cursing as he made his way out the door, leaving for the night and bidding his goodbyes to the rest of the team reached his ears, but he didn't care.

Yet again, Light twitched.

Recently, the only thing that could make Light twitch were the two pools of black situated on L's impassive, blank, and extremely _annoying_ face.

And he hadn't even done anything to Light.

Not really.

At least, not in a physical sense.

Light doubted the detective even knew that what was being done to his person was causing him both mental and physical discomfort, but, being perfect, he couldn't throw that into L's face. That sort of verbal play would only result in his percentage skyrocketing like when he ate the last scone, not knowing it was L's as he saw that as the healthiest thing on the young (and most likely diabetic) detective's menu.

After some verbal sparring, Light had even given in to buying L more scones, thinking that if he was going to be called Kira and lose the stupid little battle they had begun, he would at least improve the poor man's health.

No, what is making Light twitch at the moment is something that passes like an arrow through the thick night air as the two genii marinate in the glow of computer screens.

Light looks to the bottom right corner of his screen, realizing he had been on the same web page for about fifteen minutes, trying to make out a Portuguese word there. Or was it French?

Oh man, he was tired, and getting tired of twitching.

So, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, completely uncaring if L calculated this into a perfection flaw or a Kira percentage or whatever the hell was going through that mind of his…

He paused at that thought and looked to the detective, not in the least surprised to see L's dilated orbs staring right back at him. His eyes. His black, nothingness that he liked to call eyes.

Now _those_ were what was making Light twitch.

"Might I ask what is so pertinent to your interests that you have not been able to look away from my face for the last…" He checked his watch quickly. "…four hours?"

L looked at him, a deer in headlights and somehow a thumb appeared between his teeth.

They stared at each other for a while, stupidly really.

Then L pulled the crumpled appendage from his mouth, finally deeming what had been on his mind non detrimental to his being should he disclose it to the young man. "It is not your face I have been focusing on, but rather that which sits above it."

Light scrunched his face in confusion, tired and not thinking straight. He felt above his eyes on his forehead, checking to see if he had anything marking him that he had not been aware of. Upon L shaking his head, he pushed his fingers further to tangle into the tangle-less auburn locks, receiving a happy little nod from the detective.

Light was annoyed now.

He could handle being under constant scrutiny for being one of the world's more notorious mass murders the world had ever seen, but he had been getting less and less sleep because the scrawny detective was contemplating his _hair_? It just didn't make sense.

He blinked and took a breath. "Pray tell _why_ you have been drilling holes into my brain over hair?"

L tilted his head a bit, straying eyes lingering on the locks of Light's head after he ran his fingers through it. At this, the detective stood up, startling Light slightly.

"Do it again." He commanded.

Light cocked an eyebrow, but complied by running his hand through his hair again.

Before his fingers even reclaimed their spot on the desk, the detective was right in front of Light, staring intently at his _hair_. He could practically feel the detective's minds cranking, his genius brain picking apart something about his hair and analyzing it. It was… weird.

He soon became fed up.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE RYUUZAKI, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STARIN' AT MY HAIR FOR?!!"

He really hadn't meant to shout.

L looked at the angry teen and drew his brows together a bit before answering in a quiet, but noticeable frustrated voice, "I am a world class detective who can solve any case, anywhere, at any time… But I just don't get it." Light's eyes implored him to go on. "I mean… I don't really know how to put this, but you _hair_. It's … .."

Light blinked. "What, Ryuuzaki? What is it?"

He mentally thanked God that his voice didn't want to shout anymore.

"…Perfect."

Again, they stood for a moment, detective and suspect staring at each other, one trying to figure out what angle the other was trying to take and how it could benefit his assertion of the suspect being Kira, the other trying to comprehend shiny hair.

At long last, Light huffed haughtily and turned back to the computer, shutting it down and tutting the detective slightly, who had begun touching at pieces of his hair, lifting it and watching it fall right back into place, as if magnetized there, a thumb at his mouth and teeth annihilating the edge of a nonexistent fingernail.

Then, Light turned around and got up, walking to L's computer terminal, where he shut down that computer as well. He then shut off the lights and led the still thoughtful detective to their shared room, as they were bound by a very resistant string of metal. He performed his nightly cleaning ritual as L sat on the toilet, staring at his head, and then went to change, and finally lay down peacefully in the bed, watching L silently crawl in next to him.

He took that moment to speak.

"Really, Ryuuzaki, I thought there was something wrong with my hair."

L blinked. "No, really. I don't get it. Is there a secret to perfect hair?"

Light pursed his lips and rolled on his back. "You practically live with me. You should know I have some tricks up my sleeve." The sneaky grin that passed his face got the detective's attention.

"And what would that be? Pertaining to hair of course."

Light shifted a sly glance to the panda man and leaned on one arm, propping his chin on it.

"You really want to know?" It was barely above a whisper.

L nodded his head fervently before being beckoned with a finger towards Light. He cupped his hand around his mouth next to L's waiting ear, watching with glee the anticipation flowing behind L's dark orbs.

For one whole staggering minute, everything was quiet. There was nothing except slight breathing heard throughout the entire building, then…

"I brush."

It took the smartest man in the entire world a minute to comprehend the word's that reached his ears, trying to find a hidden meaning in them, before he realized that Light was telling the truth and the boy was currently turned over and in that fuzzy stage between the dream world and consciousness.

The detective then realized another fact.

It had taken Light the short span of ten minutes to effectively close down their operations in the investigation room, prepare himself for bed, and get L to stop bothering him with questions as he fell asleep. '_How the hell??!'_

Looking over at the boy's now sleeping form and mulling over the younger detective's new talent, he whispered, "Touché, Light-kun's hair, touché…"

From somewhere within the confines of his mind, Light did a little victory dance.

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**A/N:** Awesomeness involves writing a short review. Like "click button", write "yay" or "nay" and then going on to more important matters.

And as the title says, the concept of this chapter was simply staggering. Pointless, but staggering.


	17. Bums'n'Children, Bummin' Children

**Disclaimer:** I OWN NOTHING, I SAY, NOTHING!

**A/N:** RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAYYYY!! *coughcough* No, really. **review please**.

Anyway, the title is kinda whack, but I like how it flows.

Also, **YOU** Yes, **YOU**, "Mr./Ms. I really like to make you happy and review",You know you have completely annihilated my review board with your awesome juice? Like really, it's spilling down the walls and getting into all the cracks and shit. Anyways, you should get an account so I can know who this anonymous person is(not to mention find out whether you are male or female; I can assume, but that would just make an "ass" out of "u" and "me"; I make bad jokes daily), or I will be forced to, "starting Monday, kill a duck a day" (Richard Russo's Straight Man) and refer to you as my new pet goldfish. But... then again, you may end up having a thing for goldfish... Oh well. HEED MY WARNING or "this guy *insert startled quacks here* will be soaking in orange sauce and cornbread stuffing by Monday night." (also Richard Russo's Straight Man).

And, although I sound threatening and _totally_ off my rocker, I gave into your demand as you so effectively demanded, "MOAR PLZ. MOAR. AND NAO PLZ." You must have brainwashed me into genius mode somehow. Either that or the politeness in youe demand was really really funny. ;D Chicka chicka yeah!!

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**Bums and Children, Bummin' Children - A Lamentation to… well, Bums and Children**

They were getting nowhere.

It had been weeks since any morsel of useful information pertaining to the Kira case had come in after Light had been released from "L's solitary confinement death cell" (that's what Light liked to call it, and who was L to tell him it was wrong?). Sure, there were killings coming in, but they didn't not appear to fit the very specific pattern that the original Kira had utilized. Instead, they were becoming sparse and without the taunts or intricacies the other victims had been subjected to.

They were getting nowhere.

Watari had strained his back slightly one night and needed a break.

The rest of the team were nearing their wits ends and needed a break.

L needed a break.

These were the precise reasons why he was currently shuffling down the street to his favorite ice cream parlor. It was a good ten blocks away, but he had given the team the day off and practically had to beg Watari to stay in bed and recover. No matter how much of a robot he was, he did love his father-figure, and he would see that he showed his care in those awkward ways only he can. So, he kept Watari in bed resting and took it upon his own two feet (clad in ratty sneakers, _lovely_) to drag him for a delicious snack on a sunny afternoon.

He _only_ ordered one cone with tree scoops of strawberry ice cream and whipped cream on top, as there were still plenty of snacks and delightfully sugary treats still back at headquarters that Watari had been accumulating for him over the time they had been in Japan. Albeit a greatly rich man, he remained stingy when paying out of pocket, mostly due to the fact that he never carried enough money around on his person when he seemed to need it.

Satisfied and with eyes glowering at acquiring such a delight on his own accord, he stepped with all his lanky gracefulness back out onto the sidewalk and was about to take the first lick out of his monstrosity of a cone… when he was run into.

L barely noticed the culprit as time began to slow, his body locking in place so he was unable to stop the cones downward descent to its untimely and fruitful doom. He stood with eyes wider than normal focused on the crack that severed the side of the cone and his orbs scanned over the mass of strawberry guts strewn about the pavement and splattered carelessly across his shoes and pants.

L could feel wetness staining his cheeks and his vision blurred momentarily as he watched with great misery the death of his deluxe strawberry ice cream cone with whipped cream. He blinked his tears back repeatedly even though every fiber of his being shouted, "CRY! CRY!"

But how could he? He was a super sleuth. He was L. He was justice.

_Justice_.

Where was the justice in this cruel murder? He only had a few coins in his pocket which her weren't even sure was Japanese currency and a second trip would both be embarrassing and would further Watari's hypothesis that one should always use a bowl when consuming ice cream.

Just as he was about to go into mental hysterics, L felt a small tug at his jeans. It was barely noticeable, but noticeable enough.

Inclining his head slightly to the left, he spotted a little girl who could be no more than four years old, one hand clinging to his pants while the other held an ice cream cone with what appeared to be strawberry ice cream on top of it up to him.

He stared in evident confusion at her and she took his hand (the one still in position where it had previously been holding _his_ ice cream) and placed the cone in his hand, closing his fingers around it tightly.

Then she released his hand and threw her arms up, a smile plastered on her face and black pigtails bouncing slightly. "Tadaa!" She exclaimed, "Now, 'member to hold tightly and smile!"

With this last word of expert advice, the little girl skipped off down the street and around the corner before L could say "Kira says 'what'."

After a moment, he smiled to himself and turned on his heels, shuffling back towards the investigation building. '_Kids are great_.' he thought to himself, immensely pleased with the choice of strawberry ice cream the met his waiting mouth.

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The team was happily chattering and looking more refreshed than even when L entered the investigation room to find all members of his team present early. His curiosity grew as Matsuda cooed at something Aizawa was holding.

So, curious person that he was, L made his way to the two men and inquired on what they were doing. Aizawa then proceeded to flash a toothy grin his way and showed a picture of his young child, which he thanked L for letting him have the day to take out around the city.

L almost gasped when he realized it was the same girl who had given him her ice cream the day before! Just his luck, as he was feeling slightly guilty that he never thanked her, even if she was a child.

"Yup," the proud pop exclaimed. "She's has such good morals too! After buying her ice cream yesterday, she came back from exploring without it. I asked if she had dropped it and she just told me that there was a homeless man who looked like he needed it more than she did, so she gave it to him! Kids are great, aren't they?"

As Matsuda and Aizawa began chuckling, L felt his brain waves begin to fizzle and pop.

_Homeless?_

Surely his clothing was baggy, but he obviously wasn't homeless.

_Homeless?_

He looked down at his clothes, eyes meeting with stains and cake crumbles spotting them.

_Homeless?_

Then again, he had been wearing the same shirt and jeans for three days straight.

Matsuda jumped slightly as L suddenly bent double, clutching his stomach and shook as positively the most delicious laughter began spilling from his lips. The room became more and quieter as each person looked towards L, who was oblivious to their stares as he reeled with laughter at some unknown source of humor.

As his laughter died down and he began catching his breath, L nodded towards Aizawa, a persistent smile on his slightly flushed cheeks as he said, "Yes, kids are great." At that, he turned around and plopped himself at his terminal, happily picking at key after key after key.

Watari and Light stood side by side, one smiling, one not noticing as the coffee cup made a resounding "clink" on the floor as it fell from his fingers, an eye twitching.

"What the hell…?" he said into the hushed room, but no one seemed to notice.

Watari leaned forward slightly and placed a hand softly on Light's shoulder, "I do believe he had a good day yesterday, don't you?"

Light could only nod, unable to stop himself from contemplating, '_What exactly has he been smoking and where can I get some?_' before he shook his head and bent down to aid Watari in cleaning up his cup of coffee, unaware that it was that same type of incident which had perpetually claimed L in a mood full of laughter and strawberry ice cream and little children who mistaken him for a bum.

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**A/N:** And just maybe after a shower and *cough* strawberry ice cream, I will put up something else for Lamentations or I may even have something for Snake Fighting too! *waggles eyebrows suggestively*


	18. On the Concept of Black Holes

**Disclaimer: **I ain't own anythang, mannnnn....

**A/N:** Told ya I'd pull another one outta my ass. **REVIEW!**

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**On the Concept of Black Holes – A Lamentation to Not-so-Perfect Hair**

_Click. Click, click, clack. Click. Click, clack. Click… Click… Click, click, click, click, clack._

Light stopped typing, as it was late in the night and looked over at his non-amicable bed partner only to stare up at the hair that pointed to all corners of the Earth in some sort of strange whirlpool-like phenomenon. He felt his hand twitch and ache in sudden need.

"Ryuuzaki-san, may I brush your hair?"

The clicking at the terminal next to him stopped abruptly as black eyes matching black hair turned on the college student. His hand twitched again and he absentmindedly wondered where his Jean Paul Gaultier Fortifying Hair Gel for men was.

"I would advise against that greatly, Light-kun." came the stoic reply.

Light cocked an eyebrow. "Why would that be?" '_All it needs is some tender loving care… and maybe Moroccanoil Oil Treatment for long term conditioning and thermal protection_.'

L cocked his head to the side as if Light said something silly.

"Because, Light-kun, it bites."

'_Biosilk Shine for frizz control_—' He blinked. "Come again?"

"It bites. Like a leopard."

Light snorted. "A leopard, Ryuuzaki? That's a horrible joke…"

"I am simply telling you what I have been told."

"Who told you that?"

"Watari."

"Watari?"

"That's what I said, Light-kun."

"And pray tell, how does he know how hard a leopard bites?"

L cocked his head further to the side and Light was suddenly unsure if it was screwed on correctly or not and would fall off soon.

"He protected me from a leopard when we had a case in Africa. He said it was lucky it had been a leopard rather than a tiger, which has a bite force around 1200 psi in comparison to 500 psi."

Light remained silent as L turned back to his work, utterly speechless by this onslaught of rather useless knowledge. An uncertain amount of time passed before he shook himself out slightly and tried to work on the pie chart he was making once again. Yet, every time he looked away, his eyes were somehow drawn right back to the black mop of hair upon L's head. He would look at his pie chart, stare at L's hair for a half an hour, then shake himself and strain his eyes to tunnel vision only on what his computer revealed to him.

So much concentration and willpower was being pouring into Light's focus on his computer screen that he thought his eyes were going to fall out. At this thought, he immersed himself further into his labor. He was tired, but he was simply too preoccupied with the strange happenings around him to be bothered by sleep at the moment.

Looking at the clock in the bottom right corner of his screen, he realized it was already five twenty-seven the next day and the work hour began for the team at eight. This fact is precisely why Light buried his head in his arms on the desk, letting out a miserable sound which only rose as he heard L chuckling at him.

Giving the insomniac detective the evil eye, his eyes drew his gaze to rest on the black crow's nest once again, mentally cursing as he whispered, "Touché, Ryuuzaki-kun's hair, touché…"

From somewhere in the confines of his mind, L did a little victory dance.

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**A/N: **I know the last part is from my other chapter; it's supposed to be that way. Just to clarify, not all of these chapters/one-shot events are connected. I mean, this and the other one obviously are, but the one-shots jump around from time period to time period, different individual's experiences are given (not focusing on _one_ person, per se) and I have different relationship pairings that may exist in one story and not in another. These are just possibilities, snippits, fun little ditties to make you laugh, smile, cry, shout at your computer and so on and so forth. :)


	19. Why Wear Shutter Shades?

**Disclaimer: ***cries*

**A/N: **What to say... What to say... Kanye West can rock the shutter shades, but I cant. There.

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**Why Wear Shutter Shades? – A Lamentation to Goggles**

Sometimes, people have a certain inclination for things, whether these inclinations make any sense or not. Mello had one of these inclinations. Mello had an inclination for Matt's goggles.

He wasn't homosexual as far as he knew, he just liked them.

There. Plain, and simple.

It was just that they fit Matt's style and personality so well. The color was a sharp contrast to both his pinkish features and stunning red-hued hair. They stood out when he was in a public place, but not as an attention grabber that said "Look at me!", but was more demure and subtle. A passing glance or a smile of interest would suffice. But the thing that Mello liked best about the goggles was that the yellow tint hid something very precious to the teen from the rest of the world, but was available only to _him_.

Mello had the rare privilege of being the only person allowed to touch Matt's goggles. He could knock on them to get the gamer's attention without retaliation, and he could pull them off his best friend's head just to annoy him.

That's what he told himself at least.

No, what Mello really like were Matt's eyes.

He wasn't homosexual as far as he knew, he just liked them.

Matt's eyes were a very deep, but flamboyant _emerald_, and if you could get close enough (Mello just _knew_ he was the only one able to get close enough to the gamer anyway), that you could even see hints of gold flecked throughout his irises, complementing his skin tone… his smile… everything really.

So, Mello continuously rejoiced each time he slowly peeled the goggles off his friend's head before Matt would look at him, slightly disgruntled, slightly questioning, silently asking if he needed a favor. Or maybe just attention. That was most likely it.

He was the only person in the whole wide world able to look at those stunning eyes and be truthful and happy under their gaze. He valued his best friend as if he were a precious jewel, and was extremely grateful to Matt's goggles that they hid an extremely precious object so well.

Yet, he was getting guilty.

Mello was a lot of things, but Mello had never been guilty.

Hell, he didn't even really know what he was guilty of!

It was just that he had been looking at the gamer more and more often, touching his goggles even though Matt was immersed in the electronic worlds of Ninetendo and Playstation, and lingering his gaze on the gamer just a little longer than normal before Matt put on his questioning face.

So the guilt was filling him up, slowly but surely.

He had an inclination to Matt's goggles and he began wondering if that was something he should keep from his best friend. They _were_ best friends after all. But what if Matt thought Mello was weird. Even worse would be if he thought Mello was teasing him, which was definitely **not** the case. He didn't want the gamer to feel sad. He didn't want the gamer to feel uncomfortable. Mostly, Mello didn't want to lose his best friend.

But he was quickly filled to the brim with guilt and ready to snap. He couldn't hold it in any longer and needed to tell Matt exactly what he felt **right that second**.

So, he told him.

In the middle of the hallway.

Very loudly.

He watched as Matt's surprised face morphed into his quizzical face, then prepared himself for the "oh-what-the-fuck" face.

Instead, Matt started laughing, that cool careless laugh as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Yeah, I know. Why else would I wear these silly things at nighttime?"

Mello decided a few things that day. One was that he had to have the best of best friends out of everyone in the entire world and that he was very lucky bastard that no one was in the hallway when he practically screamed his half-confession like a little sissy girl.

The other thing was that shutter shades could kiss his mafia ass.

Goggles were the shit.

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**A/N:** Apparantly Matt can't rock the shutter shades either. That's allright. It's better than Mello's haircut. I like calling it a "Swedish Flip". God only knows why, and I will **take it to my grave**. One a lighter note... three chapters in one night is pretty good to me! I might do some more in the morning. But sleep is really necessary when you are studying Latin. Again, God only knows why, and I will **take it to my grave**. *ominous voice*


	20. I'll Be Back

**Disclaimer: **Don't own a damn thing.

**A/N: **Boo yah!! I'm back with another one homes!!! Not as good as others, but sufficient to give y'all piece of mind. Quirky. Whatevs. I love Watari. You should too. **REVIEW!!**

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**I'll Be Back – A Lamentation to Spectacles **

Watari did not wear glasses. All the people who he had known knew to never refer to what he wore as glasses. L happened to ask why and he had been told that "A proper man does not wear glasses. A proper man wears spectacles."

Watari wore spectacles.

And L had a deep liking for his spectacles, almost as much for the man himself. For if clothing makes the man, and then spectacles make the aged, wise old chap. They framed his sharp gaze nicely and belied the extent of his intelligence to the world. L theorized this was why the children were more prone to following orders given by his caretaker rather than Linda or Roger.

Ever since he was small, L had a deep liking for the small, oval, gold-rimmed spectacles that he just could not shake off. It was as if he were drawn to them.

So it was no surprise that when Watari removed them from his person to rub at irritated eyes, L swiped them off the table and put them on.

L was surprised to find them rather clear to his eyes, wondering if Watari actually had issues with his eyes or if he wore his "spectacles" for the impression when he almost let out a small "Meep!" when a voice spoke into his ear and he saw seven spaces flash in front of his eyes, as if a template for putting in a password on a locked computer. The voice sounded in his ears again, saying, "Password please." in perfect British English as he listened properly to the message this time.

He blinked a couple times, still in slight shock over Watari's computerized spectacles, and automatically began drawing a list in his mind of possible passwords when Watari plucked the spectacles from off of L's head, causing the detective to stare up at him with, what could be described as, guilty features.

Watari cleared his throat.

L blinked.

The older man explained, "The last time we were home, I asked Matt to put in a portable electronic application into my spectacles so that I could access information more quickly and quietly than having to carry a laptop around." L raised his eyebrows at this newest discovery, intrigued, as Watari continued. "It also has Bluetooth capability, connected to my cellular tele. Quite useful in a sticky situation."

They were silent in each other's company for a few moments.

L put a tentative thumb to his mouth and said, "Watari… Does Matt have one… in his goggles, I mean?"

Watari seemed dazed that he had not thought of that very sentiment and tilted his head thoughtfully to the side, crossing his arms in front of him, making the brown tweed jacket crunch around his midsection. The possibility that Matt also had Terminator-like capabilities built into his goggles made a lot of sense when dealing with the trouble he and his ever present partner in crime got into.

"I suppose I will go call Roger and tell him to confiscate the dratted things." The white-haired man huffed and turned, making his way to the door while L returned his gaze to his computer before the thin line of his lips curled up into a smile.

"A password, huh?" He said, loud enough to make his caretaker pause on the threshold. "Since you wear 'spectacles', I suppose I shouldn't call them 'glasses'?"

A breathy laugh escaped the detective as he heard Watari mumble, "Oh for heaven's sake…" under his breath as he continued on his path to confiscating goggles and changing passwords that seemed to come too easily to his young and aloof protégé, thinking only that he was getting too old for this shit.

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**A/N:** Silly, L, stop figuring out Watari's passwords! He has a hard enough job as it is shoving sweet shit down your throat!!!?!! 3 **Holla at ya girllll!!**


	21. Over and Out

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** I feel bad, I haven't written shit since I started my 9... excuse me, eight days of vacation. . I'm a bum. So here's a ditty I whipped up. Sad and angsty, but that's what happens when I am (literally) at a loss for words. Sigh.

I **PROMISE** something more will be out for this and Snake Fighting this week. God knows I have enough time on my hands. So, REVIEW PLEASE! It charges my battery. **Cause I'm a robot.** :)

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**Over and Out: A Lamentation to the End**

He said, "More, more, more."

She said, "Yes, yes, yes, yes Mr. God-man-sir.

I'll do what you wish.

Love me once is all I ask."

Then the one who _knows_ better reaches towards this so-called God,

like he wants it,

needs it,

craves it.

But** no**.

He wants to extinguish the flame.

So, he runs for the truth.

But instead of escaping the volcano,

he is running around it.

Being led by bread crumbs he thinks he knows all about.

Facing each other,

rain killing sound,

He say, "Oh, why? Oh, **why**?

We could have been friends."

But this is what happens when you listen to the gingerbread man.

He keeps saying,

"Catch me if you can."

So, one follows the other,

round and round the volcano.

The baker chasing the gingerbread man;

the crumbs he sacrifices and leaves behind.

Just for, oh yes, just for the _baker_ to find.

And, I suppose, they _could_ have been friends.

But this is what happens,

and this is what they get.

When it's all said and done,

Oh my **God**,

this is the end.

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**A/N: **So, you can kinda tell I just read the part where L and Light are out in the rain. *Major Sighing* (OH, and btw, I haven't actually watched the series. I read the manga; **oh my god**, am I committing blasphemy??! O_O)

**REVIEW PLEASEEEEE!!! Cooookkiiieeess forr youuuuuu ;D**


	22. Super Secret Agent Man

**Disclaimer:** Wahhhhhh.....

**A/N:** L is super cool. Giggity. Oh, and I found out that I have a huge man crush on Adam Savage of Mythbusters. Awesome. You know what else is awesome? **Reviews!**

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**Super Secret Agent Man – A Lamentation to Suits**

There are things we all know L likes. He likes candy. He likes cake. Scratch that, he **loves** cake. He likes Watari. He likes his successors Mello, Matt and Near. In fact, he likes all the children at Wammy's and rejoices when he is able to go visit them at intervals between cases. He likes their surprised looks when they see his black Rolls Royce pull up into the driveway late at night. He likes McGuyver. He likes his birthday, although he never really admits to it. There are lots of other things that L likes, but he doesn't like to let anyone know about them, feeling that they are private and his alone… or just too silly to truly admit to.

So, at Investigation Headquarters when Watari walks in on him dressed in full James Bond attire, with a gun in one hand and a martini in the other (shaken, not stirred), dancing energetically to "Secret Agent Man" by Johnny Rivers, both are suddenly thrown into a frozen state of shock tinged with embarrassment.

As the pitch black glasses that were propped so neatly on L's point nose slid down a little, Watari blinked, quickly placed the tray of cake and tea on the side table and muttered that he hoped he did not disturb anything.

When his father figure turned to leave, L snapped back to action, saying, "About my…attire…"

The older man looked back and smiled, saying, "Don't worry, I won't let the younger Yagami know." With that, he was gone and L breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Light would have a field day if he had seen the spectacle L was putting on.

Then his cheeks reddened deeper, put off slightly as he questioned why he had to look positively _silly_ every time he was with Watari, but chocked it up to just bad luck.

Shrugging, he pushed his glasses up, took a sip of the drink began belting out the chorus of his favorite song, giving homage to the true secret agent men of the world.

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**A/N:** He's gotta let loose sometimes, you know?


	23. Bat Out of Hell

**Disclaimer:** I ain't got a damn thing. Shiiiitttt.

**A/N: First off, my heart and prayers go out to those families of the firefighters who lost their lives trying to stop the fires at Mt. Gleason. You kept us safe in this world of perpetual danger and I thank you.**

Okay, this shit right here nigguh, is WHACK. I wrote it right now. In like the last minute. That's why it's short. Short and sweet. Let it soak you in stupidity for a while. Mmm, sizzle, sizzle.

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**Bat Out of Hell: A Lamentation to Poorly Made Wings**

Roger and Wammy come together, shaking hands and one congratulates the other on a safe trip back home to the orphanage. It was a long flight, but bearable. I was his usual self, quiet and rather good company for the old man, as they spoke of politics and philosophy.

Roger looks at the other man, bewildered, as he hears this. "You know, I _never _understood how you could handle him. I have tried conversing with the lad, but there is something about him that always unnerves me. I cannot help but get agitated when he focuses that condescending gaze on me, simply because he is intelligent!"

At that moment, a flash of white fell past the two men standing on the second floor balcony, too big to be one of the domestic animals that some of the children had taken in but too small to be, say, a mattress or something equally as large.

A rather large "**OOF**!!" was heard from the bundle as it crashed into a bush (thankfully not of roses) on the ground level and proceeded to struggle from the leafy green confines.

Equally as sudden, a flash of red and blonde could be seen rushing out to where the white bundle had fallen, one looking around warily while the other cursed and tugged at a loose arm, making a better job of stripping the other boy instead of actually helping him escape the infernal clutches of nature. His doom was imminent, though, as the blonde one gave up, cursing in some form of Russian before turning his shackles on the redhead, throwing a fit about "not building the fucking wings right" before the two turned their attention back to the whining struggle of white, who had begun complaining about how "this was _nothing_ like a transformer".

Roger coughed and the three young boys looked towards him, startled. Wide eyes met skeptical glares and they hurriedly began tugging at the trapped one again until, success!, he was released from its clutches.

They proceeded to escape back into the house as Roger and Wammy cocked their heads, trying to identify what sort of flying contraption the gamer had made this time, watching it sputter something terrible at them from its resting place below.

A few moments of silence pass as the men shake themselves off; it was something that needed to be done after one of Matt, Mello, and Near's silly escapades (which weren't so much silly as downright dangerous).

As the infernal winged contraption let out its last grumble and died, Wammy shifted his glance to Roger, meeting the others bland stare.

He said, "My good man, I think I'd take my chances with the detective **any day**." before scampering off to the confines of his room, hoping to find solace in some tea and a good book, having decided that Roger could handle it.

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**A/N:** Take THAT, Roger, you filthy bastard... O_O I don't hate him, for rizzle! I just think we need someone to hate on. PLAYAS!!! **REVIEW!!**


	24. American Idol

**Disclaimer**: O_O; So, I don't own DN... nor Beyonce, Cage the Elephant, Hyper Crush, Aretha Franklin, or "Friends with Weed" by the Butthole Surfers. 'nuff said.

**Author's Note**: This is some real shit right here nigguh. So, I'm trying to pull a lot of stuff out of my ass cause I might be swallowed whole by the fall semester so please bear with me as I try to put out stuff for Lamentations, Snake Fighting, and The Evolution of Dolls. I hope to see reviews from y'all *sends the evil eye*. But no really, I love my goldfish and wish to please.

_Light:_ You know, I'm a romantic. I know how to please!

(Light swings his arms up, throwing up Kira gang signs)

_L_: You know, I think I'm ready.

(Light turns to L and L puts a finger to his lip)

_L:_ Ready to please?

**BAHAHAHA!!! Seriously, go watch ^that^ on youtube at: **.com/watch?v=UlxiOuDI8OM

_L:_ That's Sayu's bra! (points accusingly) Light's a pervert!... for his _sister_!!!

* * *

**American Idol: A Lamentation to Showers**

Beyond swung the keys around his index finger, back and forth, back and forth, trudging up the stairs, skipping a little every now and then to a silent beat resounding throughout his head. He took the one gold key in hand and fidgeted with the door for a minute, jiggling the handle at the same time to gain access to the little dingy apartment he had been inhabiting for the past couple of months. He didn't mind the dirt that had settled throughout the place, a little dust never hurt anyone, but he really didn't like the pests that swarmed the area near him.

Not bugs, but his neighbors.

They were ghastly creatures from God knows where and always stopped him from one of the most pleasing habits he had adopted while planning his comeback against L, detective extraordinaire.

He practically ripped the white, long-sleeved shirt from his body, slightly sweaty in the August heat as he proceeded to devour a jar of strawberry jam that he had forgotten he placed in his fridge. It wasn't like he had much money, so these small surprises made his cackle in glee.

"Hee, hee, hee! Kya, kya, kya!"

He looked at his reflection in the window, artificial light pouring in from the club across the way had him looking like he was covered in the strawberry jam himself, a rosy glow painting his features. He stretched one side of his mouth, then the other, smiling lopsidedly, then open-mouthed, before deciding that it should be more vicious looking, so he stuck his teeth out a little, eye wide as he stared at himself.

"Ha, ha, ha!"

Nodding slightly, he put the jam back in the refrigerator, almost reverently, as he wanted to have a small snack in the morning before meeting with that Misora chick.

Boy, was she finnnneeee.

His lip twitched slightly as he unbuttoned his pants and stripped on the way to the bathroom, reminding himself to scare the crap out of the landlord for painting it an awful shade of mauve before he turned on the shower.

There was a lot of time that he had to spend alone while in Los Angeles. He couldn't torture the detective the entire day, although it made him shiver to think of the possibilities. But no. He had to do this right if he was going to win, if he was going to beat L.

So, what did he discover about himself while administering his tactics on the city of angels?

He liked to _sing_.

Not just sing, per se, even though he would openly admit that he thought his voice was pretty good. No, Beyond liked singing in the shower.

Why?

Well, because of the reaction it got from his neighbors, of course! The bastards…

So, as soon as the warmth engulfed his body in steamy happiness, he flipped through his mental jukebox for a song that would aggravate people through the paper thin walls.

His lip twitched as he began, "_**A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED, A FRIEND WITH WEED IS BETTER! A FRIEND WITH BREASTS AND ALL THE REST, A FRIEND WHO'S DRESSED IN LEATHER!!**_"

As he continued at the top of his lungs, voice cracking a little as he swayed with a silly rhythm, he screamed suddenly, "AHHHH!!!"

Then, he pretended to stop a record with his hands, DJing slightly as he flipped one invisible record off the player and put another on, adjusting his invisible headphones. He really wanted to film himself performing these mini concerts, naked in the shower while DJing Beyonce to Cage the Elephant to Hyper Crush. What he _really_ wanted to do was film it and send it to L, that bastard, just to make him cringe. It was depressing though, that he wouldn't be there to witness L's disgust.

B tilted his head to the side, pausing in the middle of Aretha Frankin's "_**I will Survive**_" to think, '_Well, I look exactly like the fucker, so it'd really look like he's the one putting on the show_.'

The silly giggles erupted from his mouth, one hand grasping his own hair while the other pounded on the tiled walls, shaking a little like the mauve was going to give way.

"**KYA! KYA! KYAAAAA!!!**"

It got louder and louder till the very pounding of the water could not be heard over his hysterical fit.

Suddenly, a very large BANG erupted next to where his head was and he looked at the wall questioningly. He heard a muffled, burly voice shout, "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!"

Eyes wide, he touched the tile, muttering, "Walls shouldn't talk…" before scrunching his brows together, realizing at once he had accomplished his daily task of annoying the hell out of his neighbor.

Grinning, he stepped out of the shower, sauntering down the hall having decided that he deserved the rest of that delectable strawberry jam for another day's job well done.

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**A/N:** O_O SHIT'S WHACK!! Oh dear Lordie, I spend way too much time on here.


	25. Swallowed Whole

**Disclaimer:** ...Really? Do you have to ask?

Oh! but wait, this chapter is a little on the **explicit** side, so you have been warned!

**A/N:** I feel like it's kinda lame and has been done before, but I need to put SOMETHING out as my language studies and archaeology digs have been taking most of my time. But, it's been fun as we did a dig down in SoCal and were excavating old Native American Indian skeletons Cool beans. Hot. But cool beans.

Oh, and you who called yourself "Believe it Lady". #1, 1st week of fall semester is fab; maybe ill teach y'all latin or italian? pfft. But #2. no, YOU are awesome!! And have stuck with me from the beginning. AWESOME. For reals. But how can I compensate for your awesomeness, I wonder? Hmm, would joo like some pounnnndddd cake??? ;D

WHATEVS! SEXY TIME FO YOU!!!

* * *

**Swallowed Whole: A Lamentation to the Death of a Popsicle**

Suck.

Suck.

Slurp.

Pressure.

Licking down the length.

Juices dripping down his chin.

Misa's eyes were widened in shock as she watched the God forbidden spectacle taking place before her. Her boyfriend's eyes also widened as she looked to him and he bit back a groan, nervous sweat breaking across his brow. The lithe detective was encased in his own world as he drained the pole of all its energy, letting out little happy whimpers and whines as he delighted in his own ministrations and the tastes that reached his tongue. But for Light, it was almost unbearable as the detective sucked.

Sucked.

Sucked.

So, when he felt like he was going to burst, Light grabbed the detective roughly by the hair, effectively halting all movements as L's large, owlish eyes looked innocently at Light, even though mere moments ago he was performing not so innocent acts.

Light's anger boiled over. Misa blushed. L didn't know what he did wrong.

"MUST YOU BE SO LOUD WHEN EATING THAT POPSICKLE??!" He wailed, insulted and aggravated as the detective once again disrupted one of the few dates he had with his girlfriend (though, honestly, it didn't matter _that_ much).

L's eyes stayed trained on Light for a moment, processing. Then, with Light's hand still firmly planted in his hair, L leaned down slightly, sticking the entire length of the Popsicle in his mouth before slowly pulled it back out.

Both Light and Misa reddened at the detective's apparently unknown explicit indulgences as they realized in horror that the Popsicle stick no longer contained the Popsicle.

He shifted his eyes to his girlfriend momentarily, hoping she had no misinterpreted L's idiotic actions, but she was staring intently at the now deserted Popsicle stick, brain processing that the fruity treat it had previously housed had met an untimely demise.

Suddenly, Light saw the light switch flip on in Misa's brain as she swiftly "meeped!", stood and ran to L before grasping the front of his shirt before screaming at the top of her lungs, "**TEACH ME!!!**"

Light decided to Kira with all of them.

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**A/N:** I think I just popped a blood vessel at my own whackness. **Review?**


	26. Yummy

**Disclaimer:** I ain't own a damn thing.

**A/N:** I'm a weirdo. That's for sure. This chapter is not too humorous. It allows you to think what you will. That and it's really, really short.

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**Yummy: A Lamentation to Paper Shredders**

Mikami was sitting in front of him computer in the spacious office of his legal building, finalizing some loose paperwork that his wary intern had done incorrectly.

His watch beeped and he paused to look at it. Midnight already?

He sighed and gathered his documents into various piles, the largest being the trash one. Yet, he was not one to simply toss important paperwork. No, he had a pet for that. A pet named "Shredder".

As he pulled the door to the cupboard at the far end of the room, he muttered, "Dinner time, Shredder." Reaching his hand into the darkness, he pulled out a small, grey, paper shredder.

Small and grey.

Like everything else residing in his office. Everything was simple and utilitarian, throwing off a minimalistic vibe.

He plugged the machine in and it whirred to life, happily awoken by its master. As it gobbled down piece by piece of paper, disintegrating them into strips of unreadable fluff, it wondered aimlessly why people always thought lawyers were the devil's advocates. Shredder knew better. _It's_ master was awesome. And fed it yummy paper everyday at the same time. It always looked forward for dinner time.

As soon as all the paper had been turned into colorful confetti, Mikami nodded a job well done to himself and pat the top of the machine's head as he turned it off, the purring dwindling down to silence again as it fell back asleep.

"Good Shredder."

He replaced it back into the cupboard then scanned the room to see if anything was out of place before he pushed his glasses further on his nose and left the office, locking the door securely behind him.

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**A/N:** O_O I think I really just wanted to throw Mikami in there somewhere. eh, oh well.


	27. Job Security

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN. But I do own a rad pair of fancy boots! :D

**Author's Note:** Okay, so I feel really bad about claiming to update crap at least once a week. With the weight of my 4th year of college's schoolwork, I cannot give absolute times for updates. I AM WORKING ON AN UPDATE FOR Snake Fighting, PLEASE DON'T WORRY! IT'S NOT OVER!

So, thanks for the reviews from **bm**, my lovely **goldfish**, and my **koifishy**! You guys rock. And roll. ALL DAY LONG!

But yes, here is the next random tidbit of Lamentations. I hope you like ittttttt!!! Mad brownie points for reviews! ;D

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**Job Secuirty – A Lamentation to Leaf Blowers**

It was a bright day, unusually so for such a case to be happening. Or so Matsuda thought so. He was sitting at his terminal in the investigation room, balancing a pencil between his nose and upper lip as he lazily scanned the news reports on his screen for any abnormal patterns. What kind of patterns was he looking for, you might ask? Well, truth be told, he really didn't know anymore. All he knew was that balancing a pencil between one's nose and lip was damn near impossible. Or so Matsuda thought.

He heard a twittering and flicked his eyes momentarily to the sole window in the room. It was a small window, more like one you might find in a basement, as it provided absolutely no light to the room, and had a thin grey screen panel adorning it.

The twittering sounded again and he saw a little bird hopping blissfully just on the opposite side of the screen. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. Oh, how wonderful it would be to be a little bird and to just be able to be outside in the beauty of nature, flying around all day!

He turned his eyes woefully back to his screen and shot the reports a bland look. His eyes were screaming, "How **dare** you exist!!!"

Mogi, situated on the opposite side of the room, stretched languidly, and caught sight of Matsuda as he stared pitifully outside the window. Now, Mogi, being a rather large and imposing man, had a rather soft spot for weak and pitiful things. This group of things just so happened to included people like Misa and Matsuda, who couldn't seem to do anything on their own. It made him want to help them, big and imposing though he was.

Slowly, he rose and made his way two chairs over to stand to the left of L, waiting patiently for recognition. Although big and imposing, he remained a polite man.

L's large eyes turned on him as he sipped at some of his newly brewed earl grey tea. "Yes, Mogi-san?"

Mogi blinked and coughed into his hand. "The entire team has been working very hard." He paused as Light raised a curious eyebrow his direction. "It has occurred to me that this continuous work schedule is easier for some to… cope with than others." He met L's penetrating glare again and shuffled from one foot to the other. "I believe that those who have a harder time dealing with the work load might need to take a breather." He nodded in Matsuda's direction. L's eyes followed to be met with Matsuda clutching his fists together, bottom lip bitten slightly and looking at the small window as though he would cry.

L's face switched back to Mogi and then over to Matsuda again. "Mogi-san believes he would be able to make Matsuda-san into a more productive individual if given a break, no?"

Mogi blinked. "Well… I—"

L's cheeks puffed slightly. "Mogi-san. Matsuda-san is at the same level as you are in the police organization. If anyone else on the team can handle the work load, then he should be able to as well."

"But, Ryuuzaki-san… " Mogi pleaded hopelessly, wanting to help out his suffering comrade.

Suddenly, Light piped up. "Ryuuzaki, look at Matsuda-san again."

L looked from Light and over to Matsuda.

"Look at those teary eyes."

"Yagami-san, you should know that it will take more than sympathy—"

"Would you rather him cry and bitch and moan to you then?"

L and Light's gazes were fixed on Matsuda's façade, oblivious to the fact that two genii were sizing him up. L suddenly sent a withering glance Matsuda's way and said, "You're right. Mogi-san, please take Matsuda-san out for lunch, as it is approximately twelve twenty-five."

Mogi let out a breath and Light beamed a winning smile towards L before Mogi went to tap Matsuda on the shoulder. "Come on Touta, let's go get some lunch."

Teary eyes turned upwards and suddenly a smile began stretching across the young policeman's face, as if Mogi had just given him Willy Wonka's golden ticket before shuffling for his coat and wallet and practically _skipping_ out the door.

He certainly had a strange co-worker.

They had both gotten the same sashimi bento from the small food mart on the corner and decided to eat in the park, "For a change of scenery", Mogi suggested to the already giddy Matsuda.

Sitting down, both opened their respective boxes, took a satisfied whiff of fishy goodness and began digging in, as both were quite hungry and very pleased to have a break after such a grueling week of Kira-hunting.

A whirring sound suddenly caught Matsuda's ear over the twittering of birds and he looked over to see a man with a leaf blower, clearing the pathway into the park.

Matsuda blinked between his chewing and turned to Mogi. "How much do you suppose that man gets paid for his job?"

Mogi looked over at the man, then the leaf blower, which seemed to be screaming at the leaves, causing them to run for their lives instead of actually blowing them. He had to shake his head once or twice to get the stupid out. Turning back to Matsuda, he shrugged. "I don't know. Minimum wage, I would suppose."

Matsuda scoffed. "Well, even if our work _**is**_ more difficult, it is _**way**_ more important and we get paid almost double the minimum wage." He leaned back and picked at him teeth with a toothpick, smug, full and satisfied.

The leaf blower continued to hum loudly, "_RUN! RUN FOR YOU LIVES LITTLE LEAVES! YOU ALL SHALL BE BLOWN AWAY BY MY MIGHTY POWER!!"_ Mogi's eyes widened as he looked back at the leaf blower, assuring himself that he did **not** hear it scream, nor that the leaves were replying with high-pitched "_EEPS!"_

He shook his head a couple more times and finished his bento, putting it to the side.

They both sat there momentarily, the hum of the leaf blower in the background.

"You know." Mogi began. "We may have higher paying jobs, but **that**," He pointed towards the leaf blower. "…my friend, is called job security… I mean, when are we going to run out of leaves."

Matsuda blinked at his companion before slamming his fist onto his other palm. "My God, you're right, Mogi-san! Very true! I never would have thought about it that way!"

They exchanged goofy smiles before both went back to relaxing in the murderous threats of the leaf blower and the screams of its leafy victims.

Suddenly, Matsuda piped up, "You know," He pointed over his shoulder at the leaf blower. "It's probably one of the better jobs where you don't have to take your clothes off." Matsuda clasped his hands behind his head and let out a satisfied sigh as Mogi looked on at him, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

He shook away the stupid again, reaffirming that he certainly had a strange co-worker.

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**A/N:** Mogi needed some screen... er, word-time...? Whatever, I needed him in there!!! He's the tall, dark and handsome of the group. Pfft. And I just **had **to pound of Matsuda a little, he's just so _easy_. Oh, how I love me some Matsuda. Mmmm, I'll take that with vanilla ice cream. O_O **Review..?**


	28. Observations

**Disclaimer:** Wahhhh.

**A/N:** No one reads this anymore. F you guys then. No, I'm just kidding! Don't hate me! *blocks self in case someone throws a tomato* Anyway, cute fluffy thing. ;D

ENJOY!

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**Observations – A Lamentation to L's Diary**

Nine o'clock struck at the Kira Investigation headquarters, initiating the familiar embarrassment of tummy rumbles and then the nervous laughter as one detective after the other took their leave to get dinner. They had been hot on the third Kira's trail for days now and even Light was being allowed his required eight hours of sleep! They deduced L must be pleased with the findings.

Soon, only the captive Light, Matsuda (who had convieniently packed his own dinner for the day), and L were still in the room. The detective himself was engrossed in his incessant scrolling and apparently very interesting web page as Light and Matsuda worked at the table behind him, sorting through newspaper articles. The task was tedious and boring, but someone needed to do it.

"Matsuda-san, can you please grab me that file behind you?" Light asked, indicating the pile of papers with a nod of his head.

Matsuda, who hands were full, gave a strained look his way before Light lifted his bound wrist and gave the chain a shake. Matsuda sighed and somehow was able to wrangle in the pile with his pointer and middle finger, tossing them Light's way before going back to his sorting.

They made small talk, Matsuda always being intrigued by the variety of insight and random knowledge that came with the age with which people enter college. Something about being young and curious and yadda, yadda, yadda.

While they shared a small laugh, L paying them no mind as his hand methodically slipped from the tray of cakes to his mouth before repeating the process, Light noticed a small, seemingly self bound notebook. It was soft to the touch, like the outside might be brown leather, and there was string crudely holding the pages inside it.

He flipped it over once, and then again in his hand before Matsuda looked over quizzically. Light met his gaze and shrugged before opening it.

The first page had nothing.

The second had something.

The writing was scrawled in some form of Arabic, and Light couldn't read it, though he did notice the perfectly etched "L" in the corner of the page, sketched in the traditional gothic style.

That peaked his attention.

The next page was in German, making Light rejoice slightly. He was elementary in German, but enough to read what was paid out before him.

'_The boy is smarter than I suspected. I'd like to be his friend_.'

Light cocked and eye, before continuing.

'_Glasses is gruff and needs to be less over-protected. If this is how all father's are in Japan, I would not be surprised if in a few years, all peoples will become overly dependent on their predecessors, causing the society to crumble._'

Light twitched. This was definitely someone from abroad. The only two people it could possibly be were Watari or L, and Light had never been privileged enough to see either of their handwriting. He flipped the page, this time French. Only the date and a few quickly scribbled lines.

'_Once, twice, thrice times doth it jiggle when in anger. He is very understanding._'

Light released a muffled snort, which he proceeded to cover up with a series of coughs.

The next page was in English.

'_Tall, dark and handsome, I suppose. He doesn't talk, but is a good listener and did a wonderful analysis of the scene at Sakura Television. I should offer him some cake.'_

Light supposed this was Mogi that said unknown person, and the previous few pages were for Aizawa's afro hairstyle, then his father and himself. He continued, intrigued.

'_I should not have chained him to me as my work has been hindered by the atrocious amount of time he sleeps and cleanses himself, morning and night. Is once a week not enough?'_

That time, Light really **did** snort and he whipped his head around slightly to see if L had noticed, thankful that the detective was still lost in space. Matsuda, on the other hand, had come to sit beside Light, peeking over his shoulder at the book and scribbled messy writing. Light put a finger to his lip to silence the other man and quickly wrote, "L's diary" on a piece of paper before going back to the booklet.

'_Self-centered, obsessive, materialistic and snobbish. Though, she is a very nice girl, and we share a favorite flavor of cupcake. How peculiar._

_The boy is much, much smarter than I presumed. He is quite good at tennis and has an attractive intellect. I do hope we can be friends. It would be a pity otherwise. I don't think I've been this happy in a long time._

_He is always late, but he too is far more intelligent than he is given credit for. I wonder if he would join my team back home? But it's better to not get my hopes up… In addition, he makes the best coffee I have ever had, second to W.'_

The two of them crossed glances, slightly stunned at the simplistic honestly found in those few sentences, which effortlessly described the advantages and shortcomings of L's investigation team. It was slightly… adorable.

Turning another page, they came upon only one sentence.

'_I do miss the children._'

Matsuda blinked over and over again at the words, probably making something more complicated out of them than they really were. Light himself felt his heart clench. Everyone knew L the root, the inhuman detective who needed neither sleep nor proper nutrition to function, only surviving on sugar and justice.

Yet, underneath it was a real person. He may not know what to do with his emotions, but that didn't mean that he did not experience them. Who were the children? Light could not guess. That was personal, something inherent to L, and he did not want to harm whatever trust L had vested in him by delving into his home.

But it only made sense for L to have a diary, though it seemed strange at first for the insomniac. He was presumably alone and secluded for most of his life, focusing all of his attentions to his casework, even at a young age. He was never allowed to be a child. He had never been allowed to be free.

Light turned his gaze to stare at the insomniac's back, his arm moving methodically from plate to mouth, plate to mouth, and he felt himself feel worried—_really_ worried at the fact that someone he actually cared about had to go through life in such a way.

But what could he do?

Looking back to the notebook, an idea sprung into his mind, which caused him to smile at Matsuda before taking a pen from the table, turning the page and, in perfectly straight Japanese, began to write…

Five hours later and Light's head finally fell, hitting the table as his brain shut down and signaling the end of the work day for the chained duo.

L sighed as he noticed it was only two thirty in the morning, but took pity on the younger boy and, shutting down his computer, shuffled over to the table where the paperwork had been spread haphazardly as the two younger detective's worked to find a pattern in the killings.

He scratched one foot with the other before noticing something very… familiar… poking from beneath the file nearest himself.

Eyes widened slightly as he realized his blunder and berated himself in his mind even as his bony hand trailed over the desk to pull his diary from beneath a pile of papers. If they had seen it, his reputation would be down the drain…

Opening the first page, he didn't notice anything different, so he began flipping through it, scanning for any sign of recent use before coming to a page, which should have been blank.

He cast an accusing stare at Light for a moment, eyes lowered slightly before he actually began reading the page, filled with proper diction and syntax. Light's handwriting.

'_The man proves arrogant, witty, and untrusting. He has a strong sense of morality and knows a very unorthodox type of martial art, but I would suspect no less from such a man. He should probably have diabetes by now, but, as luck would have it, such a thing has not occurred. He guides his team well for someone who shies away from the general population and sunlight. Does he have agoraphobia, I wonder? I am constantly astounded by how quickly and succinctly he gets his work done and the conclusions he comes to are always viable and backed up with proper evidence. It makes me wonder how happy he is. I do hope we can be friends._'

Looking down at the bottom corner slightly, he sees a small, crude drawing of what l presumes to be himself as it is crouched the same way with dark circles around the eyes and wild hair. A piece of cake in his hand. Along the side in scratchy, Matsuda writing is a small caption.

'_This panda can have my coffee any day._'

For a long time, all L does is stare. At the drawing, at the long description of himself, at the word "panda", at the page, filled with honest confessions and small truths that anyone else might just throw off as unnecessary.

Instead, L giggles, beginning softly but growing, until his eyes begin to tear and, to avoid waking his sleeping companion, buries his face in his palm.

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**A/N:** L is adorable. Panda man. Review?


	29. Ping!

**A/N: **I'm backkkkkk!! It only took me a couple months and forever!! Hmm, but release of this and other random story stuff will be out few and far between as my boyfriend is still recovering from his accident and I'm taking care of him. Don't you feel the love??! Anyway, I dreamed this the other day so it makes absolutely NO sense. Crack, crack, crack stuff. And ignore all the random references. I just think they are fun. :) Reviews are lovely as well! Thank you anddddd goodnight!

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**Ping! – A Lamentation to the Elevator**

It seems that there is a game going around the office.

_Ping!_

L always arrived at the investigation room exactly at 8:05AM. He was never over or under the five minutes past eight, so the eight plus five it was to be.

_Ping!_

The doors would always open grandly, illuminating the darkness of their workstations with prettily positioned artificial lighting that Misa-Misa had somehow got L to install. The various colors and patterns would change at random and Light once choked as the shadow of Hello Kitty floated eerily across his lap.

_Ping!_

The thing about the elevator, quite happy about its girlish makeover, was that L had also installed a sound system. It was quite unlike elevator music par normal.

_Ping!_

Throughout the morning, various members would arrive at the investigation room with a happy _ping_ and would grace the others with their presence and that of a random selection of songs. Songs that Misa-Misa was all too happy to provide the great detective from her shiny, pink iPod.

_Ping!_

It seemed Aizawa and Matsuda had started a game. They were to guess what best fit L's (non)emotions of the day when he would enter the room, and it seemed even the lanky detective had taken a liking to their shenanigans as he had started dressing up in various ways. Sometimes he would come in with a badly drawn lightning bolt on his cheek and Matsuda would yell "Harry Potter!", then would lose in horror as Mogi muttered, "Lady Gaga," and took his share of the winnings. So far, L had entered the room with a Donald Trump toupee, Burger King's "The King", in Assasin's Creed regalia, as Ciel Phantomhive, with a Hitler moustache, as Domo, as Link, and even graced them with his presence in one of Misa-Misa's personal oufits and a blonde pigtailed wig, to the horror and subsequent puking of his colleagues.

_Ping!_

It was like some sick, social experiment, so Light thought.

_Ping!_

Light and his father arrived at seven thirty usually, and always seemed to get a variety of Hyper Crush, Alice Nine and Nirvana.

_Ping!_

Next were Mogi and Aizawa, accompanied by Rammstein and the Ying Yang Twins, respectively.

_Ping!_

A weepy Matsuda would peel himself from his position against the metal wall of the elevator and lament under his breath how Jack Johnson "gets him every time".

_Ping!_

Then, as Watari arrived accompanied by Attack Attack!, bringing cakes, cookies, tarts, tea and a plethora of other heart-attack rendering delights, the room would grow quiet and eyes would shift to and from the clock, willing the second hand to move faster. Sometimes there would be words and other times significant amounts of money or other prizes would change hands as the betting began and that fateful _ping_ would determine the winner of that day's round…

_Ping!_

Matsuda's bloodshot eyes whipped around and even Soichirou spared a glace towards the elevator as the gleaming doors slid open and owlish eyes stared right back.

For a moment, everyone stared as L emerged and took his seat next to his prime suspect, annoying the college student as L leaned ever closer and muttered what sounded like sweet nothings under his breath while popping Smarties into his mouth one by one. Well… sweet nothings or deductions. One or the other.

Then, when the eerie light of the elevator did not leave Light's computer screen, he turned slightly in his seat, golden hair flowing to and fro as he took in the shocked, baffled, and thoughtful expressions his colleagues wore. He turned further and eyes widened a fraction as Light spied what the others were looking at.

Still residing in the elevator were, what appeared to be, three boys piled one on top of the other. They were still wearing their pajamas and the red headed one on the bottom of the dog pile was snoring beneath yellow goggles as the two sitting on top of him eyed the room full of older men.

As the goggles kid grunted, trying to roll over and the blonde one smacked the top of his head with a chocolate bar, Matsuda snapped out of his temporary paralysis over seeing L with, well, people. His mind began cranking and churning and Light's eyes rolled to the ceiling in exasperation as he watched Matsuda take on his new favorite position as "The Thinker".

All it took were a few seconds.

Three…

Two…

One…

The happy _ping_ struck again and Matsuda pointed at first the blonde, then the redhead, then at L , saying in turn, "AHA! Deidara, Obito, Sasuke and…" He cut off when he arrived at the albino twirling his hair in tandem with his toes and Matsuda's face grew quizzical.

Silence.

Then, "I… I… I don't know who you are."

At that, Light snapped his pencil in two and swirled around, screaming, "Michael Jackson, dumb shit! It's Michael Jackson!" At that, he shook out his stress, centered his chi and sharpened his now tiny pencil as he went back to work, happy to see that his ears were graced with beautiful, stunned silence.

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**A/N:** O_O Not too bad, right...?


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